Galaxies
by PorcelainPills
Summary: Many people picture band life as glamorous and easy but the members of Devil May Cry quickly learn that it's not only fun and games and that success doesn't come overnight. Nero meanwhile tries to get his life under control, struggling with high school and his future until he runs into someone who makes him an offer he just can't deny. Human AU, warnings and pairings inside.
1. ConceptionsMisconceptions

**Galaxies**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Devil May Cry and its characters = © Capcom. I don't make any profit from this story.  
Unless otherwise stated, the lyrics that appear in this story are written by me, specifically for this fic and are story-relevant.

* * *

**Main pairings: **Vergil x Lady, implied Nero x Kyrie, implied Dante x Trish, implied Dante x Nevan, eventual Dante x Nero

**Warnings in general:** Contains uncomfortable topics like anorexia and bulimia, abuse, domestic violence, depression, self harm, drug abuse and sex.

**Warnings for this chapter:** language mostly. Also implied Dante x Kyrie. Yes, Dante x Kyrie.

**A/N: **This is a human AU so Nero doesn't have his bringer here.

* * *

Track #01: Conceptions/Misconceptions

_Devil May Cry. _A name that depicted success, a name that sounded promising.

Vergil Sparda was aware of that, as were the majority of the other members of their band: Mary, the bassist – or Lady as she preferred to be called – and Trish, the lead guitarist. All of them knew their key to success was their talent, their inclination of breaking genre boundaries and of course, their looks.

Vergil didn't try to deceive himself – he knew that their looks were one of the main reasons record labels were so interested in them. Having talent was one thing but nowadays that wasn't enough. People want something nice to look at and fame was about a the perfect mix of talent, uniqueness and commercialization.

And getting the attention of an audience wasn't easy. Lady, for example, called it a sacrifice. "I'm objectifying myself", she said once. "Both Trish and I are objectifying ourselves for music. Short skirts, fishnet stockings, leather and lots of bare skin – it's ridiculous. But sex sells... unfortunately."

Dante – Vergil's younger twin brother and the lead singer of _Devil May Cry_ – laughed once during one of Lady's flashes of anger and received a black eye for that. "I'M A WOMAN, NOT A THING, THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY, YOU INSENSITIVE JERK!"

Still, she would always change into one of her short pleated mini-skirts and a ripped t-shirt for their gigs, pulling off a punk-like look, ignoring the hungry stares and wolf whistles of the men in the crowd. Trish always said they were artists, that Lady should view her outfits as costumes. Lady never ceased to work hard for the band's success – both girls worked their asses off, determined to reach their goal – rocking the big concert halls, maybe making a change in the world with their brutally honest lyrics, getting people to listen and think.

And of course, there was Dante, the singer and second guitarist of Devil May Cry, who didn't seem to be aware of all these facts and goals. While all of the other members of the band were always disciplined, Dante was ruthless, selfish and had no morals.

Vergil let out an exasperated sigh while he assembled his drums. Dante … He didn't even know how lucky they were that their parents allowed them to sign a contract with a record label. Their condition was that both of them graduated and that Vergil would start studying – which he was going to do when the semester started in fall. Distance learning on the road, taking the first steps to "plan b", as it was called. Vergil knew it would be exhausting but he didn't want to give up music, convinced that the band would make it far. Their parents were convinced otherwise though, thought that Dante and Vergil couldn't make music for a living and made sure Vergil followed in his father's footsteps and became a lawyer.

Again, Vergil sighed quietly._ Occupation: lawyer. Well, rock star every now and then. _This had to be a joke. But it had been their parents' condition – otherwise neither him, nor Dante would have been able to follow their dream.

_Devil May Cry_ was a special and extraordinary band. They didn't really stick to one thing and just did what they felt like, experimented a lot with their instruments, rhythms and techniques but that strangeness had peaked the interest of many record labels. They were a ragtag group – Vergil himself, for example was always quiet, rarely spoke a word. But when he was on stage, he let go of everything, hitting the drums with crude force. He forgot of the world surrounding him, forgot about the elegance he usually moved with, lost himself in the music.

Then, there was Trish. None of them knew much about her, in fact. She was an elusive beauty, always calm and elegant. Trish wore black for all their shows but her look had nothing of the gothic style – Trish was classy, simple as that. When she was on stage though, she turned into a wild animal, her long blonde hair flying around while she banged her head to the beat and her fingers slid over the neck of the guitar as she played one sequence of notes after another.

Lady was the complete opposite of both Vergil and Trish. Normally, Lady was a hot-blooded girl that couldn't sit still. The twins knew her for about ten years by now and knew that Lady had had a tough life and came from a complicated family. She had many scars that covered her body but she wasn't ashamed about them, wearing them like a warrior. Vergil knew that the scar on the bridge of her nose had been inflicted by her own father. He knew that she had been abused but they didn't talk about it much, partly because Lady didn't want to talk about it and partly because Vergil didn't even know what to say.

Lady used the music to deal with what happened to her, occasionally joining Dante with her vocals. When she played her bass, she was eerily calm, silently picking the strings. When she sang, her voice was light, often combined with harsh screams or growls from Dante. They worked with those contrasts a lot. And while Vergil and Trish used music to vent their frustration, Lady used it to cope with things.

And Dante … well, he was their stage hog. Dante lived for the spotlight, needed the praise and applause of the audience like air and constantly tried to find new ways to make the audience scream. His main feat was his voice – Dante had a strong and clear singing voice and was able to switch from powerful and clean singing to deep, rumbling growls or grunts and high-pitched, shrieking screams. He also played the rhythm guitar – chords to give Trish a base for her melodies.

But Dante wasn't used to work for success. Everything just fell into his lap. He didn't think that his unique voice or singing abilities were a gift or that the fact they just acquired a label was a huge success. No, he took it for granted. He took everything in life for granted.

Vergil remembered how many sleepless nights both of them had spent in Dante's room where he tried to drum fact after fact into his brother's thick skull so that Dante wouldn't fail his finals. In the end, he made it and graduated – just barely, but he made it.

Did Vergil receive a "thank you" for that? No, of course he didn't. Dante was convinced he passed because he was supposed to pass, not because his older brother had worked his ass off so that both of them could live their dream after school. It made Vergil furious how Dante could do whatever he wanted and always got away with it without having to face the consequences. In the end, Vergil was the one who was left to clean up the mess Dante made, was the one who had to stand tall for what Dante did and despite everything always found himself defending his younger brother even though he knew Dante didn't deserve it.

All the gigs they played had been in small venues – tonight wasn't an exception – but their label promised them that they would gain fame soon. But that plan was teetering on a knife's edge at the moment – Dante was missing and they had to play in about thirty minutes.

They weren't even famous yet but Dante acted as if he was a rock star. Since they started making music seriously, the number of girls Dante took backstage had increased more and more. He was an arrogant prick, thinking he could take everything just because he had musical talent.

Vergil sighed once more, adjusting the ride cymbal before sinking down onto the small stool. Lady was currently testing the sound – both her and Dante's microphones and monitors, huffing impatiently every minute. "Where's that asshole?", she mumbled, unfortunately amplified by the two mics in front of her, making Vergil snigger quietly when the technician glared at Lady.

Trish entered the stage from the backstage area, shaking her head in anger. "I just called him", she said, referring to Dante. "He says he'll be there in twenty."

"Great", Vergil commented, rolling his eyes. Dante would arrive too late, just like fucking always.

Usually, it wasn't even _that much _of a problem – there was no rock band in the world that started their shows on time. Tonight was special though. The whole event was organized by their label, meant to introduce their newest catch to the community, to see whether they were really worth investing in or not. And now, their lead singer was missing. Fucking great.

A sharp snap cut off Vergil's train of thoughts. There went his drum sticks.

"Everything okay?", Trish asked him with raised brows, staring at his hands where he twirled the broken pieces of wood around. It was rare that Vergil showed any emotion, let alone something as strong as anger.

"Yes", was Vergil's cold answer.

"You're nervous."

"I'm not." Damn, she was right. He was nervous. Where was Dante? He knew exactly how important tonight was!

Vergil got up from the drum stool, fetching a new pair of sticks. This was getting ridiculous. Dante knew no boundaries. Although Vergil knew he had no right to order his brother around, he knew he had to do something before the whole situation would escalate. If Dante was already acting this way now, he didn't want to know how things would turn out once they actually gained some fame.

Trish followed Vergil backstage, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, everything's gonna be alright."

Vergil nodded curtly, not convincing either of them. Both of them knew this couldn't continue like that. Trish left just as discreetly as she came – always the elusive beauty. Vergil chuckled lowly. For some reason, she reminded him a little of his mother – a strange thought, considering the way Trish's behavior changed completely once she was playing her guitar. Must be the long blonde hair and her calm nature. And the fact that she was the eldest of them with twenty three years.

Vergil remembered the casting they had set up to find their guitarist about six years ago – they were close to giving up and blowing the whole thing off when Trish had entered the room.

Dante had stared at her hungrily, captivated by her beauty, not really paying attention to the black guitar strapped to her back and the additional small instrument case she was carrying with her.

The guitar looked rather unimpressive, the design simple and plain, void of any wings or decorations.

Trish didn't even introduce herself, simply plugging her guitar in and immediately starting to play a mind-numbing solo. Her fingers were a blur on the neck of the instrument and all of them had stared at her in awe, mouth agape. Even Dante had lacked words. When she was finished, she simply turned a little on the tuning heads, saying cockily: "Name's Trish, so am I in?"

All of them had nodded in response, welcoming her in the band. Lady had asked her about the mysterious instrument case then and Trish had opened it a little reluctantly, revealing a five-stringed violin. At least it had a high resemblance to a violin: the design was minimalistic, didn't have the classical shape. The curves a normal violin had were cut out, making the instrument look quite flat and futuristic.

"What's that?"

"An electric violin slash viola hybrid", Trish had answered, stunning them all. She showed them how she played the instrument then – thanks to the amp and her sound effect pedal, she was able to either create a classical sound or to distort it so much that it sounded like a very high electric guitar. Then, she told them she started her musical career with playing the violin, and every now and then, she would swap her beloved guitar with her "violan", as she called it. It was a highlight in their music. Not every band was able to brag about having such a unique instrument in their line up.

Now that they had all their members, they started writing songs and practicing. Vergil and Lady wrote lyrics – they mostly dealt with society problems, ethical dilemmas, and every now and then also with personal experiences. Sometimes though, Dante and Vergil would fight over the lyrics.

"Stop writing complicated shit like that!", Dante always demanded, "I can't even pronounce half of the words, let alone sing them. I mean – 'epiphenomenalism'? Seriously, Verge?!"

Most of the times, Vergil found himself giving in and changing whatever he wrote – Trish and Dante had to set up the instrumentation after the lyrics, after all.

One year passed and they had had several gigs in small venues. It was quite hard to even get gigs in bars in the first place since both Dante and Vergil had only been seventeen years old at that point and none of them could recall by now how exactly they even managed to get that far. But their strategy worked and so, after another couple of years that had passed in a blur in which they were constantly practicing, setting up new songs, recording demos, entering local contests, calling and writing to record labels… they actually signed a contract.

Vergil was able to cherish all of this, loved performing, loved making music. Those were the moments he lived for – even if he would never admit it out loud.

The curtain next to him started to shake, someone seemed to search for a way to get backstage. Vergil raised a brow, reaching out to hold the curtain aside when Dante stumbled inside, breathing hard as if he just ran a mile. Their eyes met and Dante chewed on his lip nervously. "I'm not too late."

Vergil rolled his eyes, returning to his usual cold attitude. "Whatever. Get ready."

* * *

In the far end of the club, in a dark corner that shielded from prying eyes, a couple was seated. She was straddling his lap and they were entwined in each other, their lips meeting hungrily. Her delicate fingers tugged on his fair strands, directing the kiss. He was completely enraptured by her, amazed that she was so adventurous. Her exterior looked so innocent and pure – she was dressed in a short white blouse and a pair of ripped jeans shorts, her chestnut colored hair tied into a ponytail. Her brown eyes were closed now, her long (and obviously fake) eyelashes pressed against her cheeks that were adorned with a rosy blush.

A loud clatter made them break apart in the next moment.

"Seriously, Kyrie?", a disgruntled voice asked. "I'm away for five minutes and you already found someone to hook up with?" Nero took a seat next to Kyrie and she slipped out of the lap of the guy she just made out with … who took this as his cue to get going. Kyrie didn't call him back.

"Are you mad?", she asked cockily and reached out for the drinks Nero just bought.

"This is supposed to be _our_ evening", Nero said with a huff, "You promised. Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

He didn't even want to be here. Kyrie dragged him into clubs on a regular basis where he was supposed to act like her supervisor. Nero was getting tired of that game but didn't know what to do and was aware that Kyrie was slowly spiraling down the road to rock bottom. Kyrie hadn't always been this way... She was only acting like this on the weekends. During the week, she was a modest girl – she never missed a day of school, went to church on Sundays and sang in the choir. On the weekends though, she turned into some kind of horny animal that devoured every man in her reach. Somehow, Nero felt reminded of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. It was actually kind of scary to see his childhood friend slowly mutate into a slut. But he didn't know how to help her.

Kyrie was living with her older brother Credo in a small apartment. Their parents died several years ago. Car accident. Maybe this was the reason why Kyrie had broken down. Credo did his best to support her – he had two jobs to provide her a normal life. But he knew what she was doing on her weekends and tried his hardest to lead her the right way. Both Nero and Credo ran out of ideas though.

"I'm sorry, Nero", Kyrie said soothingly and patted his hand. "This was the last time, I swear."

Nero rolled his eyes. He heard that line before, several times in fact. It made him angry, sad, and – most of all – _helpless_.

Kyrie made a face then, frowning at the glass. "That's coke."

"Yup."

"Where's the booze? I wanted coke with rum."

"We're underage", Nero reminded her.

"Moralizer."

"Says the girl who sings at the church."

"Only during the week, Nero."

"Am I talking to your alter ego now?"

A staring match began and they scowled at each other, both of their glares ice cold. Kyrie was the first one to retreat with a silent scoff, setting her glass back down and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. She lit one of them up, taking a long drag, exhaling the smoke with a huff. Kyrie didn't offer Nero one – she knew he disapproved of her smoking, be it cigarettes or pot. It was like having two older brothers who watched after her – both Credo and Nero always felt the need to protect her. But she was getting tired of being pressed into the role of the innocent girl. She was eighteen years old, for fuck's sake. She wasn't innocent anymore and it was time for everyone around her to realize that.

They sat there in silence for a while, the venue getting more crowded by the minute. It was a run-down club, located in one of the more obscure corners of the city Fortuna. While the very center of the city was pure and clean with white buildings with ominous facades, the rest looked rather beaten. The closer you got to the outskirts of the city, the more decaying and crumbling buildings you came across.

In this club, the dark walls were plastered with posters of bands that had played there. A big "no smoking" sign was attached to a wall but everyone ignored it anyway. There was a small bar on the far right side of the venue, next to it the control panel for the stage. Currently, the staff was busy with getting the show started.

Kyrie stubbed out her cigarette on the ash tray of the table. "Come on Nero, let's get closer to the stage. They'll start playing soon."

Nero hummed in response and let himself be tagged along, ignoring the feeling nagging in his stomach that chided him for letting Kyrie always get her way.

_Devil May Cry. _He didn't even know that band, was here because Kyrie dragged him there. She said they were playing something between rock and metal – music she usually didn't listen to herself. Nero was still skeptical and wondered why the gig was starting so late and why there was no support band.

The band had just stepped on stage. Nero heard Kyrie gasp beside him. "God, he's hot." She pointed at the front singer. Again, Nero rolled his eyes. "Poser", he huffed disapprovingly, regarding the singer with raised brows.

He wore pair of loose brown leather pants that were tucked into black combat boots and a long, red leather coat with silver studs on the left side. Currently, he was busy with plugging in his guitar – a purple Flying V with sharp edges. It seemed to be custom-made, the purple wood lined with silver parts that shimmered in the light coming from the spotlights above the stage. The neck of the guitar was silver as well, making it look as if it was made out of metal while the purple parts were skillfully carved, giving the guitar a strangely fantasy-like look – almost reminding Nero of bat wings.

The singer grabbed the microphone in the next second, smirking widely. "Hello everyone", he said in a deep and seductive voice, making Nero's frown deepen. That guy reeked of arrogance. Kyrie meanwhile squirmed in delight. _Typical – women always fall for assholes._

"I hope you will enjoy our performance tonight", the singer on stage continued, "I'm Dante and this" – he gestured to the blonde next to him – "is our guitarist Trish."

Trish was dressed in a fitted corset with a deep cleavage and tight black leather pants. She played some chords in response to Dante's introduction, and raised her hand afterwards – her middle and ring finger were placed in her palm, her thumb above them while the other fingers were kept straight.

_The devil's horns_, Nero recognized. The sign of everything related to rock.

Trish stuck out her tongue and threw her head back, sending her long hair flying.

Dante laughed heartily and continued to introduce the other band members. Now, he was pointing at the brunette woman. "Lady, our bassist."

Lady played a sequence of notes on her bass, much slower than Trish, only her head slightly bobbing to the rhythm. Nero noticed all the scars on her arms and the part of her legs that wasn't covered by clothing, briefly wondering how she got them. Lady's fingers picked the thick strings of the bass, its white lacquered finish shining brightly in the stage light, the dark red pickguard sparkling whenever she shifted.

She stopped playing after some seconds, now showing the same sign as Trish, a small smirk adorning her lips.

"And last but not least, our drummer – and my brother – Vergil", Dante announced and Vergil shot him an annoyed look that Nero interpreted as "don't tell them we're related". They seemed to be twins, both of their features looking the same. But their clothing and hair style were as different as day and night. While Dante's main color was red, Vergil sharply contrasted to it by wearing blue.

Nero grunted in surprise – Vergil looked almost aristocratic, seemed to be misplaced at the drums with his brushed back hair that was bringing out his beautifully sculptured features and his outfit that consisted of a blue silk shirt and leather pants with snake pattern.

Vergil banged against the bass drums a little harder than necessary, twirling the drum sticks in both hands afterwards – completely destroying his aristocratic look with that.

Then, the lights dimmed and it was quiet for a moment. Well, the stage was quiet. The people around Nero and Kyrie were already yelling in excitement.

There was a faint clicking sound – Vergil setting the rhythm with his sticks – and suddenly, the music blasted through the speakers and amplifiers, making Nero feel deaf.

The band started a powerful and fast rhythm, both of the guitars screeching, the bass thumping beneath it while the drums mercilessly banged against everyone's ear drums. Dante stepped to the microphone, opening his mouth to sing.

"_Your body is an armor of flesh,  
__Forged for a reason all of us still struggle to find.  
__It's yours to keep, to love or hate,  
__To take care of it or break it,  
__For the entire time."_

He continued to play chords on his guitar while Trish let her fingers run freely over hers. Vergil meanwhile clashed onto the ride cymbal, the loud clatters harmonizing with the wailing of the guitars.

"_Learn your lessons,  
__Pay attention in your full-time informal school called 'life'.  
__Experiment, try, fail and grow,  
__Repeat, repeat until you die."_

Dante opened his mouth wider, now screaming out the chorus with all his heart:

"_Whatever you decide to do is your call,  
__And just like me you will live for yourself.  
__Because the main rule of humanity  
__Seems to be forgetting everyone around you!"_

Heavy chords followed that and Nero admitted that he was impressed. They obviously have mastered their instruments and Dante's voice was powerful – he was able to alter between strong, clean singing and distorted growls and screams effortlessly, perfectly fitting into the loose style of the band.

By now, Dante had retreated to deep growls instead of high-pitched screams.

"_Don't think about cause and effect,  
__Ignorance is bliss!  
__Don't think about tomorrow,  
__Tomorrow does not exist!"_

The people around Nero and Kyrie were screaming and jumping around, hair flying everywhere as everyone banged their heads. Red light was coming off the stage, tinting the scene in its intense glow.

Dante was now singing in his clean voice again, just like the first verse.

"_Your mind is like a golden cage,  
__Have your own opinion  
__And make sure to keep it in your head!  
__Your soul will be the only thing left to sell  
__And your heart will be the first thing  
__To grow cold as stone!"_

Nero noticed that Dante seemed to lose himself in the song. He was not simply reciting the words, he _meant_ what he sang. His face was clenched in concentration, filled with emotion. He was angry, furious even.

Lady now joined Dante on the vocals, her light voice breaking through the sharp chords that both of the guitarists were playing.

"_But I refuse to sink,  
__I refuse to drown."_

Dante pitched in again:

"_You can hear the cogs roll,  
__The gears clanking."_

And both sang the next line together – Lady in her siren-like voice while Dante deeply rumbled the words out.

"_The machine we call society."_

Dante retreated to play a sequence of notes together with Trish. They built up tension, playing on different ranges while Lady continued to sing.

"_Discouragement is its weapon,  
__Oppression its addictive drug."_

Dante butted into the next line, the dark growls contrasting to Lady's high voice.

"_Dependence its golden light we're forced to follow!"_

Lady continued singing alone then:

"_But our paths end in darkness,  
__Our paths end in sadness,  
__'Cause none of us knows how to escape."_

The melody took a turn after that, getting a little slower. Nero could feel his heart pound wildly with every thump Lady and Vergil made with the bass and the drums, finding himself responding to the music. The people around him screamed louder, the sound level in the venue and the song now reaching their climax and Dante was screaming in his highest pitch now.

"_I am merely a mirror of you,  
__I am a reflection of what you see in yourself!"_

He drew the last word out as long as he could, and the music abruptly stopped, only his screechy voice could be heard for a moment. And all of the sudden, the band retreated to the heavy instrumentation of the beginning.

"_We judge people for judging people,  
__Because judging anyone is wrong!  
__We mind our own business,  
__But minding one's business is ignorant!  
__We're the copy of a copy of a copy,  
__We've murdered originality!  
__Does it matter who you are or where you're from  
__When people will always find a way to label you?"_

Dante switched to clean vocals then, repeating the chorus of the song one last time.

"_Don't think about cause and effect,  
__Ignorance is bliss!  
__Don't think about tomorrow,  
__Tomorrow does not exist!_

_Whatever you decide to do is your call,  
__And just like me you will live for yourself.  
__Because the main rule of humanity  
__Seems to be forgetting everyone around you."_

The song ended with a wailing scream on the guitar and again, the lights of the stage went out, plunging the audience into darkness for some seconds. People screamed and clapped their hands, begged for more. Nero had meanwhile fallen out of his trance.

Kyrie stared at the stage. "Nero, help me get backstage later", she demanded, making him stare at her wide-eyed. "What?"

"I want Dante and hell knows how long he's going to stay in this town."

"You … you what?" Nero didn't get what she was talking about.

She stared at him with a 'duh'-look on her pretty face. "Isn't it obvious?"

_Don't tell me she wants to sleep with him_, Nero thought. "You're acting like a groupie", he said with a frown and she laughed in response, ignoring his concern. Just like always.

"I'm not the only one in this room who wants a piece of him", she said and Nero knew it was true. Other girls in the venue were screaming hysterically by now.

"Kyrie, you're crazy", he sighed, "I'm not helping you. This Dante seems like a reckless asshole, he will use you and throw you away."

"Maybe I want to be used", she retorted, staring at the stage where Dante currently was taking off his coat, continuing the gig shirtless. "Hell, look at him. He can use me in any way he wants to."

"You're drooling", Nero said dryly and Kyrie blushed in response, smacking him on the arm.

"Shut up." She stared at Dante again, succeeding in making eye-contact. He eyed her from top to toe, looking quite pleased with what he saw. Both of them smirked widely then.

"I'm so gonna fuck with him."

Was this really the same girl Nero had known for about eighteen years? She wasn't acting like that.

"It's enough, Kyrie", Nero said firmly, cringing on the inside. He sounded like Credo. "I'm going home after the show ends. You can stay but don't drag me into this." It was enough. Nero didn't know where to go from here.

"Sure", she said automatically, not even listening to him. Once again, Nero rolled his eyes.

The concert continued for a while and Nero found himself enjoying _Devil May Cry_'s music even though he was still worried about Kyrie. They've known each other for an eternity. Before Kyrie's parents died, they had been neighbors who saw each other every day. They went to the same school, spent all of their free time together, knew everything about the other.

But Kyrie changed drastically during the last year and none of it was for the better. Nero constantly found himself taking her home either drunk or high. He had to deal with Credo then who would vent his anger on him. Nero didn't blame him, endured Credo shouting at him. He would apologize afterwards anyway. Nero knew Credo was getting desperate because of his sister but just as him he couldn't think about a way to get her out of that phase. Kyrie didn't want to talk about it, always found ways to escape conversations.

But Nero doubted that Kyrie would have any luck with her plans tonight, considering all the other girls there that wanted Dante just as badly. He left the venue after the concert, saying goodbye to her and walked to the bus station with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

How did things turn out like this? And _why_?

Nero hated to ask himself the same questions over and over again. But still … he couldn't recall when exactly things had changed or what triggered Kyrie's sudden metamorphosis. When she started acting like this, her parents had already been dead for about a year. Was it the shock? The sudden realization that they would never come back?

Nero sighed silently. He was repeating things over and over again, searched for answers he would never get.

By now, he had arrived at home and pulled out his keys from the pocket of his jeans. It was a nice house with a small garden – the house of his foster parents.

James and Diana were good parents – loving, understanding and caring. They loved Nero as if he was their biological son. Still, they didn't like that Nero spent so much time with Kyrie – at least when she started to get Nero into trouble.

Diana constantly reminded Nero that she wanted him to be happy and that she could clearly see that he wasn't. She knew Kyrie pretty well because she had lived close to them some years ago but things have changed. They had grown up and Nero had to think about what he was going to do with his life. And Nero had no clue what to do with it. For some reason, his parents seemed to be convinced that he already had a plan, that he knew what he was going to do when he was done with school – but to Nero, his future was a black hole.

But who could he talk to? Kyrie didn't listen to him, had enough problems on her own. Credo wasn't much of a help either and Nero avoided talking to him whenever possible. He didn't have other close friends. Sure, there were some people he hung out with at school but he kept them at a safe distance, only thought of them as _school_ friends.

Nero slumped onto his bed, not bothering to take off his clothes – which proved to be the right choice as he discovered some minutes later. His cell phone went off and he huffed at the familiar ring tone. Credo.

"She didn't return, right?", Nero greeted him directly. Credo had no other reason to call him – they usually didn't get along, only agreed on things that involved Kyrie.

Credo huffed out a breath – to yell afterwards. "Why did you leave her alone there?!"

"What am I supposed to do, Credo?", Nero asked back, feeling anger bubbling up inside him. "Technically, she's an adult. None of us can tell her what to do, it's _her_ life."

"Don't tell me you can just sit back and watch as she destroys it."

"What am I supposed to do?", Nero asked again, hissing through gritted teeth. "I'm sure she comes home soon."

Credo hung up without another word, making Nero even angrier. Damn him, both of them. As if on cue, his cellphone went off yet again.

"Kyrie?"

A sob came from the other end of the line.

"Kyrie?", Nero asked again, more urgently this time.

"Nero...", she said weakly, "Please come and pick me up."

* * *

"He's such an asshole."

Nero bit his tongue at that statement, desperately trying to keep the "I told you so" to himself.

Kyrie was still sobbing on his shoulder, her eyes bloodshot and red.

"What did he do?", Nero asked and gently stroked her hair.

"Was an asshole."

Of course.

Nero sighed, holding Kyrie's hand and waiting for her to calm down. At the moment, they were seated in a bus, close to their destination – Kyrie's apartment complex. Nero's stomach churned. Credo would be waiting there. Great – he was directly walking into a blow-up.

Kyrie composed herself just in time. They got off the bus and she wiped off the make-up that covered her face in bold black streaks.

"I hate that guy", she choked out, making Nero feel suspicious.

"What did he do to you?", he asked, a little afraid of the answer. If Dante had molested Kyrie, he would make sure to show him the consequences.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?", Nero repeated unconvinced, "Why are you crying then?"

"Don't wanna to talk about it." She fumbled with her keys now, trembling lightly from the tears.

Nero decided to let it slip for now – he didn't want to traumatize Kyrie further.

"Will you stay tonight?", she asked then, seeming hopeful.

"No."

"Why not?", she asked with a frown.

_Because I really don't want to face Credo now_, Nero thought. It was selfish but he was growing tired of having to deal with this drama every single weekend. It was time Kyrie stood up for her own, took responsibility for the things she did.

"My parents will worry", he said instead and turned to leave. "See you tomorrow."

He waved at Kyrie and went back the way he just came, back to the bus stop. He was tired. Tired of Kyrie's games, tired of trying to keep up with her. There had been times where Nero was convinced he was in love with that girl but seeing her now, acting like this, he knew it wouldn't work out between them.

There were the other girls at school, of course. But Nero couldn't imagine himself being with any of them either. They were either drama queens that acted like Kyrie or too shy or simply weird. Maybe his expectations were set too high.

Nero went into the same direction he just came from, running the last few meters to catch the bus that would bring him back to the venue where he had to change into another line to get home. He pulled out his cellphone – it was around 2 AM. Great. And two missed calls from his mother.

He pondered whether he should call her back – it was quite late anyway. His parents knew about Kyrie, knew what Nero is going through to help her out of her dark phase but still... They were afraid that their son would be dragged down by her, too; feared that Nero would choose the same road as Kyrie.

By now, Nero had arrived at the venue again, waiting for the next bus when loud shouting snapped him out of his thoughts. Nero's head turned into the direction of the sound and felt anger well up inside him again.

There he was – _Dante_. He was laughing and shouting, apparently drunk. The girl he had grabbed around her waist slapped him and teetered away on her high heels, stopping several feet away to pull down her skirt. Dante yelled something at her and she gave him the finger in response, screaming something back that Nero couldn't really make out.

Dante turned around then, facing Nero. A smirk appeared on his face. It was enough to make Nero's anger flare up. What did this disrespecting asshole think? What did he do to Kyrie?

Nero remembered one of the lines Dante had sung just several hours before: "_And just like me you will live for yourself. Because the main rule of humanity seems to be forgetting everyone around you."_

He hadn't been lying when he sung that he lived for himself. It drove Nero crazy with rage how Dante could still stand there and be proud of his behavior.

"Hey you", Dante called on him suddenly, still smirking cockily, "I've seen you at the gig. That Kyrie girl's been your girlfriend, huh?" He scoffed. "Did you dump her or what? She wanted me to –"

Without a second thought, Nero dashed forward, drop-kicking Dante straight into the face, effectively silencing him. In a flash, both were fighting furiously, the blows getting harder with every passing second. Dante caught Nero's wrist, pinning him to the wall of the venue.

"What, didn't get some from her?", Dante asked mockingly, staring right into Nero's eyes. Both of them were bleeding – Nero's lip was split and Dante had a scratch right beneath his left eye. Nero didn't answer, pushing against Dante, trying to kick him – anything to get the guy off him.

Dante started laughing then. "It's true, isn't it? Heh, you really didn't get –"

Nero broke his grip, kicked him into the stomach and making Dante fall back ungracefully. Then, he grabbed Dante by the collar, slamming him into the wall.

"What did you do to her?", he growled and Dante blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing again.

_He's crazy_, Nero thought helplessly, _Absolutely insane..._

In the distance, the other band members of Devil May Cry stood at their tour bus, watching them fight.

"Don't you want to help him?", Trish asked Vergil who shook his head in response.

"No. I'm done helping him", he replied and both of the girls frowned. "See, he finally has to grow up." Tonight had been the last straw for Vergil. He was done with giving out second chances – Dante would never learn otherwise.

A minute later, all of them regretted not stepping into their fight – the police had arrived now and took both boys with them.

Vergil leaped up, running after the police men who now dragged the boys into their car. The officer raised his baton at seeing him stepping closer and Vergil raised his hands in defeat.

"Is there a problem, officer?", he asked innocently, making the police man roll his eyes.

"They're coming with us." He climbed into the car without a second glance, speeding away.

Vergil slapped his forehead. "Fuck."

Lady and Trish stared at him – Vergil never lost his calm demeanor and none of them had ever heard him swear like that.

"Think about how much the bail will cost", Lady whispered quietly and Vergil hit their bus in anger.

"All of our earnings for this evening."

Musicians like them didn't have much income – the life on the road wasn't easy and they were constantly struggling to keep up with the bills: the cost for the studio whenever they recorded songs, their equipment, gas for their bus, merchandise... Dante and Vergil had asked their parents for money in the past but they refused to pay for anything even when their father made good money – Vergil knew that their parents secretly wished they would just give up trying to make music for a living. Fortunately, the twins were stubborn and wanted to prove them wrong, trying even harder to succeed in the music business.

Lady couldn't ask anyone for money – her parents were quite poor and the first thing she did when she turned eighteen was moving out. She could barely afford the rent for the apartment, let alone food and lived from rice for about three months before Vergil found out about her condition and invited her to live with them for some months.

Eva – Dante and Vergil's mother – had been thrilled and nursed Lady back to health, complaining that she was all skin and bones.

Lady and Vergil never discussed that incident though. Although Lady made clear that she was thankful for it, she was still wondering what made Vergil act this way. And Vergil … again just didn't know what to say or how to express how much he actually cared for her.

And Trish … Even though all of them knew her for six years by now, nobody knew anything about her past or her parents. She didn't want to talk about it, never invited them home, never introduced any family members. Maybe she even was an orphan. None of them knew but Trish seemed to be okay with being some kind of outsider.

She was the only one of them who really got along with Dante. It was quite funny, Vergil thought, how their friendship started with Dante trying to get into Trish's pants. By now, they were really close friends who mostly just sat there and played their instruments. They seriously communicated through music – through notes, minor and major scales and chords.

Vergil frowned. He wasn't jealous, was he? Not because of Trish – it was because Dante once again possessed something he would never be able to achieve. Being the drummer of the band, Vergil only gave each of them the frame to work with – this was his only task.

"What now?", Lady asked into the silence.

"We have to get him out of there", Vergil replied.

_Just as always,_ all of them thought.

* * *

"So she's not your girlfriend?"

"Will you shut up now?"

They were seated in a small cell and Nero was getting more and more pissed with every passing second. Pissed at Kyrie for whatever she did, at Dante for not shutting up, at himself for always giving in and saying 'yes' to whatever Kyrie wanted and getting into situations like these. Just how did _he_ always end up staying tall for everyone else around him?

"This is all _your_ fault", Nero said bitterly, his shoulders slumping down. If only he had dragged Kyrie back home after the concert, if only he had stayed with her and let Credo shout at him … If only, if only.

"My fault", Dante repeated, his voice empty, without any emotion. Nero looked up curiously. Dante stared at the floor, his face hidden by his long bangs. Now that Nero could see him beneath the harsh artificial light of the lamps in jail, he paid more attention to how Dante actually looked like. His hair was snow white, just like Nero's. Nero had always thought his hair color was unique, had never met anyone with natural white hair. But both Dante and his twin brother had the same hair color as him.

Dante noticed him staring, looking into Nero's eyes again. Dante's eyes were light blue – lighter than Nero's own, almost ice blue. They stared at each other for a moment before looking into different directions abruptly.

_Okay … that was weird_, Nero thought.

"It's _always_ my fault", Dante said then and Nero's gaze snapped back to him.

Dante looked quite sad, was still staring at the ground. "I don't even want to know what will happen once the others show up here." Nero guessed he meant the other members of _Devil May Cry_.

Dante sighed. "My brother always blames me for everything, says I'm selfish and an ignorant idiot."

Nero was tempted to agree to that statement but he bit his tongue for a second time this evening, keeping his opinion to himself. He was tired as hell, wished he was in his room, in his bed. Just one moment of peace, was that to much to ask?

Both of them were already told that they were allowed to make a call. Up to now, none of them made one. Nero didn't know what he was supposed to tell his parents – "_Mom, Dad, I'm in jail because I got into a fight with the front singer of a rock band, pick me up and pay my bail, okay?"_

It would only make matters worse, would show them they had been right about him hanging out with Kyrie.

Dante, on the other hand, was convinced that Vergil would show up – as always. "Seems like we're stuck in here for a while", Dante said and Nero grunted in response.

Then, Dante stepped forward, holding out his hand. Nero just stared at it. "Well, we're in the same boat, aren't we?"

Nero reluctantly shook his hand. "I guess we are."

"You never told me your name." Dante looked at him expectantly and Nero frowned when he realized they were almost the same age, Dante was maybe two or three years older.

"Nero", he finally said and let go of Dante's hand. "You're Dante, right? Not a bad name..."

"Neither is yours."

Nero simply raised a brow at that, not sure how to reply to it. Unsurprisingly, Dante just continued talking. "So, did you like our gig?" He sounded almost hopeful, making Nero want to snigger.

"Yeah, I did", he said truthfully. "You have style."

"Thanks man", Dante said, sounding relieved and let out a breath. "The music business is quite hard, you know."

Nero hummed in response and again, awkward silence lingered between them for a moment.

"People think living on the road is glamorous but believe me – it's not."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's hard to live your dream", Dante replied with a smile. "We've only made a small tour up to now, only going to actually hit the road in fall after all the festivals are over. Touring is fun but exhausting – you don't really have a home, you're always surrounded by strangers. Still, it's just … I don't really know how to explain what's so great about it. Just performing, being on stage… it makes up for it, I guess..." He trailed off and Nero found himself frowning again. Why was Dante telling him this?

Dante chuckled quietly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pour my heart out to you. I guess I just … I don't know. I just need some sleep." He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

Nero nodded slowly instead of replying. Sleep sounded so nice at the moment …

"You know, usually I don't talk so much", Dante continued, making Nero growl lightly in annoyance.

_Then stop talking, dammit. _He found Dante weird, didn't know how to characterize him. Several hours ago, he seemed like the typical rock star asshole but now he appeared almost nice. Nero brushed the impression off, deciding that he was having visions because of his lack of sleep.

"You're a good listener."

"Thanks", Nero said sarcastically but Dante didn't seem to notice and just kept on talking.

"It's strange, actually but I think that –"

"You idiot!"

Both Dante's and Nero's gaze snapped to Vergil who had just entered the jail, fuming in rage.

"_Dante_...", Vergil huffed angrily, pointing at him, eyes blazing with anger. "What the fuck did you think?"

Dante just gaped at his brother. He had never really seen Vergil angry – or emotional. And he had never heard Vergil using swear words. Sure, he used them in their lyrics but it was Dante who screamed them out.

"You knew how important that evening was for us, you fucking knew it!", Vergil continued, "But no, first you arrive late, then you bring a bunch of girls backstage and now, to cap it all off, you managed to get arrested. I'm glad that your bail costs only half of our earnings –"

He was cut off by a tired looking police man that opened the cell and gestured to Dante to get out. Dante left the cell rather reluctantly, not wanting to put up with Vergil.

Nero felt miserable out of a sudden. He still didn't know how he should explain this to his parents … The thought alone made him feel sick. He would disappoint them, show them that Kyrie's crash had also influenced him. Where would that lead to?

_Keep calm. Don't have a panic attack now._

Vergil continued to yell at Dante, reminding Nero of Credo. Dante wasn't listening to his brother though, staring at Nero. "My bail costs only half of our earnings?", he interrupted Vergil who huffed like a bull in response.

"Yes, why do you –"

"We should also get Nero out of here – it's my fault he's in there anyway."

Nero stared at him, not understanding what he was saying. Vergil completely lost his composure at that. "You – what? Dante?" It was almost amusing to see him so perplexed.

Dante grabbed the wad of money Vergil had been grasping tightly and waved to the officer. "That should suffice. He's coming with us."

And Nero couldn't believe how lucky he was when the cell door was opened.

"Thanks", he said awkwardly, rubbing his nose. Several minutes ago, he thought Dante was an asshole but now? Damn, this guy was confusing.

"Don't mention it." Dante cautiously looked at Vergil who gave him a cold stare before turning around, leaving the building quickly.

"I guess I gotta get going."

Nero nodded shortly and both of them moved into the direction of the exit.

"I thought the main rule of humanity is to live for yourself?", Nero asked cockily, making Dante chuckle.

"Maybe I had a misconception about that."

They were outside the police station now, the tour bus of Devil May Cry was parked in the distance, Trish standing outside and waving at Dante who turned to leave.

"Dante...", Nero said quietly and he turned around again. "Will we meet again?" Nero didn't really understand himself why he was asking that. He found Dante absolutely weird but still... he _was_ kinda interesting, wasn't he?

Dante simply smiled in response. "Who knows? We'll stay here in Fortuna for a while before we move on to another city. It was nice to meet you, Nero."

With that, he was gone, leaving a confused Nero behind.


	2. Martyr

**Galaxies**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Devil May Cry and its characters = © Capcom. I don't make any profit from this story.  
Unless otherwise stated, the lyrics that appear in this story are written by me, specifically for this fic and are story-relevant.

* * *

**Main pairings: **Vergil x Lady, implied Nero x Kyrie, implied Dante x Trish, implied Dante x Nevan, eventual Dante x Nero

**Warnings in general:** Contains uncomfortable topics like anorexia and bulimia, abuse, domestic violence, depression, self harm, drug abuse and sex.

**Warnings for this chapter:** language, anorexia, bulimia, domestic violence and suggestive themes.

* * *

Track #2: Martyr

"You're so irresponsible! I can't believe you just spent all of our earnings for this evening! What were you thinking?! How are we...? Why are you...? Where were you when – Argh, Dante! I don't even know what to say!"

"Shut up then!"

Lady and Trish stared at their tour bus where Vergil and Dante were currently arguing heatedly. Both of the girls looked worried.

"Dante spent _all the money_ we made tonight?", Lady whispered incredulously.

Trish nodded. "Remember the guy he picked a fight with? I guess Dante felt guilty that he was in jail because of him and paid his bail."

Lady stared at the bus where she supposed Dante was currently standing. "_Our_ Dante did this?", she asked then, now pointing at the bus. "We're talking about Dante Sparda?" She didn't seem to believe what Trish just said.

Trish nodded again. "It's true. They left the police station together."

"Huh." Lady was lost in thoughts for a while.

Vergil and Dante were still arguing. Trish huffed silently. "Times like that I'm kinda happy that I'm an only child."

Lady looked at her, her expression unreadable. When she didn't look away, Trish shifted uncomfortably, not liking her scrutinizing gaze. "What?"

"You never told us anything about your family."

Trish shrugged indifferently though her face became a stone-like mask, her light blue eyes getting icy. "There's not much to say about it."

"I don't believe you." They had been friends for a long time but sometimes, Lady felt as if she couldn't trust Trish. She kept _everything_ to herself and it unnerved Lady.

"Then don't." Trish ended their conversation, banging her fist onto the door of the bus. The argument inside stopped immediately. "Enough now, boys. Lady and I are getting cold out here." Though not as cold as Trish's voice.

The boys must have sensed that something was wrong – there was a silent click and Vergil opened the door, jumping out of the bus. Trish carefully took a step back. She had never seen Vergil that angry. Dante had pushed it too far this time, that was clear.

Vergil had meanwhile grabbed Lady by the arm and dragged her down the street.

"Let me go!", she yelled in anger and he instantly did, knowing she would most likely punch him if he didn't. Lady gingerly rubbed her wrist, staring at Vergil who looked strangely … discomposed. His hair was a mess, maybe because he wouldn't stop running his hand through it and pulling on it. He was also shaking from anger, a reddish tint on his cheeks. All Lady could do was stare. It was just too weird – Vergil Sparda, the boy that never showed emotions was an emotional mess now. Lady wasn't sure whether she should be happy or concerned about this.

"I am overwhelmed", Vergil finally spat out, holding his head.

"You just need to relax and calm down", Lady said, cautiously patting his shoulder, feeling him relax slightly. "Everything will be alright, you always find a way to pull through." She paused. "Well, to pull all of us through. You're the one who keeps the band together, Vergil." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "You always did."

Vergil froze at that, staring at her. "I do?"

Lady laughed at the confused look on his face. "Yes, you do. I don't know what we would do if you didn't hold us lunatics together." She pulled him closer into an awkward one-armed hug. Even though they had known each other for such a long time, they had never really shown physical affection toward each other.

And then, another strange thing happened – Vergil _smiled_. It was a small and gentle smile, something Lady would have never thought the older of the Sparda twins would be capable of. Again, she could only stare, not really knowing what to say or feel. "Vergil, are you okay?"

"Yes... I think I am", he replied slowly.

"Did Dante tell you where he went when we were supposed to meet the agent?", Lady asked then. They had had a meeting with an agent of their label, discussing the evening, their contract and collecting the payment. Dante had magically disappeared after their gig though and missed it.

"We didn't really talk about that", Vergil admitted, scratching his head. "I was too angry about the money to ask him about that."

Lady nodded in understanding. "Why did he pay the bail for that guy?"

"I don't know. I don't even know who he was. Does it matter though?" Vergil's voice was getting louder and more aggressive again. "The money's gone either way." He mumbled some things under his breath then, too fast for Lady to make out.

"What now?", she asked and Vergil shrugged.

"I guess Dante will tell Trish why he paid the bail. He always tells her everything."

Lady thought she could hear a trace of jealousy in Vergil's voice but quickly shrugged it off. Vergil wasn't jealous of Trish... or was he?

"This was an eventful night", Lady said quietly and Vergil nodded in response.

"Yes, it was."

They were quiet for a while, just standing there in the dirty alley several meters away from their tour bus where Dante and Trish were currently talking. And for the third time that night, something unusual happened.

"Thank you." Vergil said it so quietly that Lady almost didn't hear him. _Almost_.

She just smiled. Moments like these were rare – it actually had happened only once: when Vergil invited her to live with them for a week after she moved into her apartment.

Meanwhile, Dante and Trish were discussing in the band's bus, Trish staring at him in disbelief. Tonight, one surprise followed the other.

"_That's_ the reason you didn't come to our meeting, Dante?", Trish almost whined, not believing how stupid Dante could be every now and then. "Please tell me you're kidding."

But Dante stood his ground, even when he was slightly blushing, obviously a little embarrassed, glaring back at her. "I know, it sounds absolutely –"

"Ridiculous!", Trish cut in, boring a finger into his chest. Dante was glad she had to keep her nails short – she had to, otherwise she wouldn't be able to play the guitar. "_Ri-di-cu-lous_, you hear me?"

"Yes, I get it."

"You missed one of our most important meetings for a blow job!"

"God Trish, will you –"

"NO! Are you out of your mind? You did some crazy shit the last few years but this..." She paused and Dante used the time to justify himself.

"Hey, I can't help myself! She was good-looking and I have needs –"

"You're not getting the point!", Trish interrupted again, "None of us cares who you choose to fuck! The point is that you missed the meeting with the guy from our label. You almost arrived too late today, too and in the end, you even managed to get arrested. Dante, we're _not_ famous, maybe we'll _never_ be. We're just some musicians who try to pull through. Get that into your thick head and grow the fuck up."

She sank down onto her small bed in the bus, shaking her head. "Besides, you're not the only one with needs...", she added quietly.

And once again, Dante felt guilty. He did realize how much the others worked for this, how badly everyone of them wanted this. But to him, it just felt so natural, he didn't feel the urge to put effort into this. He simply does what he always does – having fun. Was that so bad?

"Look, the thing is – I didn't really do anything with that girl."

"I don't care who you sleep with", Trish repeated angrily.

"Listen to me. We kinda got into a fight and I called her..." Dante trailed off suddenly. The next words came out in a whisper: "... a slut. Um... and other not so nice things."

Trish gaze locked onto Dante's. "You called her what?", she asked with a disapproving glare. "Why?"

"Because she just jumped my bones!", Dante exclaimed, "I was overwhelmed! I mean, she practically just spread her legs like that after we made out for some minutes. Things got a little out of hand then and I threw her out..."

Trish's jaw almost hit the floor at that. "AND YOU SKIPPED THE MEETING FOR SHIT LIKE THIS? ARE YOU FUCKING INSANE, DANTE?!"

Dante flinched and backed off to the back of the bus. Trish only got loud when she was on stage. Up to now, he had never noticed how scary that was.

"I DON'T CARE WHAT HAPPENED THERE BECAUSE YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO BE THERE IN THE FIRST PLACE!"

"Trish, I know, I just –"

"YOU _DON'T_ KNOW! YOU DON'T!"

Dante was absolutely terrified by the volume Trish was able to reach. He was used to Lady screaming at him but not Trish. "Well, I've learned something today –"

"Oh really?" She gave him a suspicious look and Dante sighed in relief, thinking she calmed down finally. He was wrong.

"MAYBE TAKING A LITTLE RESPONSIBILITY? THINK BEFORE YOU ACT? MAYBE THINKING WITH YOUR BRAIN INSTEAD OF YOUR DICK?"

"Kind of."

Trish huffed like a bull, flipping her hair back. "I'm listening."

"I talked to that guy I had a fight with – Nero." Trish raised a brow when he mentioned the name but kept quiet. "Well, _I_ was talking and he was listening and somehow, I realized that I have to change my behavior."

"Halle-fucking-lujah. It's not like Vergil's trying his hardest to tell you that since..." Trish screwed her eyes shut in concentration. "Ever since I've met you two, in fact."

"This guy... he cared so much for that girl I took backstage – even when he said she's not his girlfriend. I don't know anything about both of them but this commitment … I don't know – it's just inspiring." Dante seemed to search for words. "I think I'm in awe about how people can still be faithful nowadays –"

"Bullshit", Trish interrupted him for the umpteenth time this night. "What did he say to you?"

"Fine", Dante huffed in annoyance. "He said it was my fault that the situation turned out like this. He made me realize that I'm a bad person and I feel like shit." Dante was pouting now.

Trish's hard stare softened and she pulled Dante closer into a tight hug. "Was that so hard, Dante?", she chuckled softly. She found it quite strange that it took him so long to realize that he had to change his attitude, even more so because it took a statement from a complete stranger to make him realize it. There was more to it but Dante didn't seem to want to talk about it.

"You're not a bad person", Trish mumbled then, gently stroking his back and he relaxed against her. "You just have a bad attitude – and you know it."

Dante kept quiet, didn't know what to say but Trish seemed to understand. Somehow, she always did.

Trish waited a minute longer in case Dante decided to tell her what was nagging him. When he didn't, she tried to ask him about it. "What else?"

Dante chuckled quietly. "You know me so well."

Of course Trish knew that Dante was keeping something from her. Still, he kept quiet for a while, absentmindedly combing through her long blonde hair.

"Are you going to tell me?", Trish tried again after a few minutes.

"I... I can't", Dante finally replied and felt her stiffen slightly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't... Let's just say that girl reminded me of someone", he said slowly, now nuzzling Trish's throat with his nose, trying to distract her. But she wouldn't let him get off that easily.

"Of who?", she asked and Dante pulled away from her, frowning deeply.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Trish opened her mouth again but was interrupted by Vergil and Lady who got into the bus. The twins stared at each other for one full minute, Lady and Trish holding their breath.

"I'm sorry", both of them said at the same time, glaring at each other suspiciously.

"I mean it, Verge", Dante said then, "I know I shouldn't have missed the meeting. What did that guy even tell you all?"

"We're going to record our album before we start touring."

"Seriously? They're contracting us? Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Dante was now gleaming with joy at the good news.

"You were in jail..."

Dante sheepishly scratched the back of his head. "Right..."

"But he also criticized us", Lady pointed out, "He said our lyrics are too generic."

"Generic?"

"He said he wants us to write about more unique things", she replied, "More about personal experiences. Things that bring us closer to the audience."

"Why that?", Dante asked and frowned, "There are hundreds of bands that don't sing about personal things. Why should we?"

"Did you just realize what you said?", Vergil asked monotonously, "_Hundreds_ of bands that are similar to us. We can't have that. We already have a special instrumentation but what we need now are lyrics to match. And we already made a compromise, Dante."

"I don't like where this is going", Dante grumbled, sinking onto the bed next to Trish. "What compromise?"

"Everyone of us will write one song about one personal experience."

Dante groaned loudly at that. "Are you serious? I _can't_ write lyrics."

"But you will", Vergil insisted stubbornly, "One song. Lady and I will help you when you're stuck. And time is running out. We need new songs for the album, otherwise they'll blow the whole thing off."

Dante stared at Trish. "Did you agree to this?"

"Yes, I did."

"But you never wrote lyrics up to now."

"_Up to now_", she repeated, raising a finger. "But I'll try. It's a compromise, Dante – it's necessary. It doesn't matter how talented or good-looking we are. What we need now is something that makes us recognizable, that keeps us in people's heads. Got it?"

"Aren't we unique enough?", Dante mumbled in a pissed voice, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm always putting on a show on every gig..."

"You can never be unique enough", Lady said absentmindedly, staring into space.

"So what are we going to do now?", Dante asked after a moment of silence.

"What we always did", Vergil replied, "Write songs, practice and record them afterwards. This time, in a real studio though."

"Hopefully", Lady added with a sharp glance in Dante's direction that meant "if you pull yourself together".

Dante meanwhile couldn't believe how much responsibility was suddenly shoved down onto him. Hours before, he had been rocking on stage, had had a little fun with two girls backstage and from then on, things had gone down the drain.

"I'm going to sleep", he sighed tiredly, getting up and slumping down onto his own small bed, not bothering to take off his clothes. But sleep wouldn't come easily this night.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?!"

Nero flinched at the almost hysterical voice of his mother. Cautiously, he glanced at the clock in the corridor. Almost 6 AM. Shit.

"It's because of Kyrie again, right?", Diana continued when he didn't answer right away. "Nero James Angelo, I called you a dozen times! Why didn't you answer?"

Oh, she used his full name. Nero definitely was in trouble. "I was... erm, occupied", he replied, trying his hardest not to say "in jail".

"Occupied?", she repeated, her gray eyes blazing dangerously, standing there with her hands on her hips. "Occupied with what and where –"

"It's okay now, let him go", came the tired voice of his father who stepped into the corridor. "Go to sleep, Nero."

Nero gave him a thankful look but his mother wouldn't let him go just like that. "I asked you where you've been."

"At a concert...", Nero said evasively.

"And after that? I heard you coming home around three! Why did you leave again after that?"

Nero froze, desperately searching for an answer. "I was... And then Credo called and Kyrie called and I... and them... and we and I... Erm... And then, I came back home..." He continued to ramble for another minute and his parents just stared at him.

"Are you on drugs?"

"NO!"

"What's with you, Nero?", James asked, looking quite concerned. Nero usually wasn't that incoherent. But then, Nero made the mistake of stepping into the light that spilled from the living room into the corridor. His mother went into full hysteria mode at that.

"YOU GOT INTO A FIGHT!", she yelled in both accusation and concern and stepped forward to examine the damage. "You have a split lip. I should disinfect that at least."

"Mom, I'm okay –"

"Don't talk back to me now, I will disinfect your wounds!", she hissed sharply, already dragging Nero to the bathroom. Diana was quite strong for a woman her size – she was at least two heads smaller than Nero but was able to pull him with her effortlessly.

"Mom, I'm not a child –"

"But you're acting like one. Getting into fist fights, I thought we raised you better", she retorted, getting the antiseptic and spraying it onto Nero's lip unceremoniously. He hissed at the sharp spike of pain and she used a piece of gauze to clean the wound none too gently.

"Nero, I know we told you not to give up on people and to always stay nice and calm but Kyrie..." Diana shook her head. "She's pushing it. I feel like she's using you."

"She's not using me", Nero ground out with some difficulty, feeling a stab in his heart as he said the words. Somehow it felt as if he was denying the truth … His mother was still tending the wound, making it difficult for him to talk through her fingers. "She wasn't always like this."

"I know but people change... unfortunately." Her voice was calmer now, maybe even a little sad. Diana acted more gentle as well, also cleaning off the few droplets of blood on Nero's chin, running her long and nimble fingers through his hair when she was finished. "Since when has it been like that?", she asked then. "We're going through this almost every weekend, Nero."

"Mom –"

"Listen to me." Diana sighed. "Is it worth all the trouble, Nero? I know Kyrie quite well and I appreciate that you want to help her but you're not getting anywhere with her."

"Do you want me to give up on her?", Nero asked back, getting aggravated.

"I just want you to be happy in your life", she replied, "Are you happy with going through this procedure every week? Are you happy with the way things are? Maybe it's time to separate ties."

Nero's eyes went wide in shock. "But mom, I've known her for all my life!", he called out angrily. "And she needs me!"

"Nero... just think about what _you_ need. For once."

With that, Diana packed away the first-aid kit and left the bathroom. Nero stared at the mirror, regarding his own reflection. He noticed how tired he looked, noticed the dark rings under his eyes. The rest looked rather normal – his youthful face, his dark blue eyes and unusual platinum, almost white hair – the same as always.

_Think about what you need for once._

Nero snapped out of his trance, leaving the bathroom to finally go to sleep. When he laid in his bed, he rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the things that happened that night. And as he fell asleep, he could still hear the line of the chorus he heard at the concert in his mind: _"Because the main rule of humanity seems to be forgetting everyone around you..."_

"No", he stubbornly said into the silence, still staring at the ceiling. "I won't let her down. I won't live for myself only."

He turned onto the side, closing his eyes.

* * *

"You look like shit."

"Aren't you in a good mood today. Charming Kyrie, charming."

"Whatever. Come in."

Kyrie stepped to the side so that Nero could enter the apartment she shared with her brother, rubbing her eyes tiredly. They sat down onto the couch of the living room where Kyrie lit up a cigarette. Nero just regarded her, suddenly realizing how broken and lost she looked. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her without her make-up on or dressed in modest clothing. She wore a pair of loose gray trousers and a baby blue t-shirt, her skin looked unnaturally pale, almost a little ashen. Her hair wasn't as shiny as he had always thought and... god, has she always been that skinny? She was all skin and bones. Kyrie just looked sick.

Suddenly, Nero had a strong suspicion what was wrong with her. Now that he actually thought about it... She never was there during lunch break. Nero had always shrugged it off, thought she was busy with one of the hundred guys she knew but now...

"Stop staring at me." She pleaded quietly, interrupting his train of thoughts.

"Sorry." Nero didn't stop looking at her though and she huffed silently. Nero noticed the yellowish tint of her nails and fingers with a frown. Unhealthy. How many cigarettes was she even smoking a day?

"What is it?"

"Where's Credo?" He didn't seem to be in the apartment.

"I don't know. Left two hours ago", Kyrie replied, now trying to blow smoke rings with moderate results.

"Will you tell me what happened yesterday?"

Kyrie looked at the floor of the living room at that, avoiding Nero's gaze. "Only if you tell me why you have a split lip."

"Deal."

She grumbled quietly, obviously not expecting Nero to give in that easily. Kyrie kept quiet for a while, just smoking before she started to speak. "Dante invited me backstage and well..." She hesitated, looking uncomfortable. "Okay, we kissed. I wanted more and he didn't."

"What?", Nero asked perplexed. He had expected the worst. Dante molesting her or maybe even attempting to rape her and other awful scenarios. This was unexpected though.

"Yeah... He said I was acting like a slut jumping him like that and that I was acting like a groupie and... and other things!" Suddenly, the words shot out of her, getting faster with every sentence. "I don't know what the fuck happened, one minute we were kissing and when things started to heat up and I made the first move, he got hysteric! I reminded him of somebody, of a slut he used to know and I must want it bad, and crap like that!"

Nero frowned. Now that didn't fit to the guy he spent a night in jail with. Dante didn't seem like the type to throw random insults at girls like that. It just didn't make sense.

"Okay, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little but I was offended, alright?", Kyrie continued, getting louder and even faster with every word. "I kicked him in the balls and he threw me out of his dressing room. I saw him taking in another chick and thought … Well, wasn't I good enough for him?! Why did he bother in the first place then? Hell, I don't know – I was frustrated and hurt and so I called you."

"That's why you were crying?", Nero asked softly, putting an arm around her shoulder and she nodded.

"It hurt. It hurt to hear it. It hurt to see him staring at me with disgust."

Nero pulled Kyrie closer to him, waiting for the feeling he used to get – the clenching and wild thumping of his heart whenever she was close to him, the feeling that he didn't feel for quite a while. It didn't come and made him feel weird. Was he still in love with her? When she leaned closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder the feeling still didn't come – his stomach didn't flutter, his palms didn't get sweaty, _nothing_ happened.

"Nero, what happened to your face?", Kyrie asked then, her voice quiet and almost sleepy.

"Got into a fight with Dante", he replied, "We both were arrested."

"How'd you get out?"

"Dante paid my bail."

She stared at him completely flabbergasted. "Wait... what?" Her voice pitched dangerously in disbelief and she leaned back, looking at Nero as if he just grew a second head. "_Dante_ paid your bail?! Are we talking about the same guy here?"

"We argued and I just lost control. I didn't know what he did to you, thought he had molested you or worse. This guy just knows how to push buttons."

Kyrie nodded quickly. "So he did that to you?" She cautiously ran the pad of her index finger over the small cut on Nero's lip. Nero still waited for the bubbly feeling to set in. It didn't.

"Yeah, that was him."

"Oh." And just like that, Kyrie went quiet, staring into space. Not thanking Nero for standing up for her. Not asking if he was okay. Going from emotional and agitated to nothing, just like that.

"You should've stayed with me last night." Her voice was monotonous, emotionless.

Silence followed that until Nero realized what she just said. "Did you just say it was my fault?"

Kyrie slapped her forehead. "Shit...", she groaned quietly, rubbing her temple afterwards. "Please leave."

"What? First you blame me for all that crap and now you're even throwing me out?", Nero yelled and she got up from the sofa, gesturing him to get out.

"Please. Leave." Her tone was neither demanding, nor particularly pleading. Nero was confused, didn't understand what was going on suddenly.

"Kyrie?"

"I will explain. But not now. See you in school tomorrow, okay?"

"Actually no –"

"Please." And she stared at him with her puppy eyes – the look Nero couldn't resist, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. Just stop that."

She grinned brightly but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm sorry, Nero."

_You're not, _Nero thought. The word "sorry" lost its meaning in their friendship. Kyrie would always do whatever she felt like, thinking saying sorry afterwards would make the problems magically disappear. But they were still there. Of course, Nero knew he was to blame for that as well – he should speak up, shouldn't Kyrie let get her way but as always he just let it slip.

By now, he was at the door again.

"See you tomorrow", Kyrie repeated, ushering him out.

"Sure."

The door closed abruptly, making Nero feel like he's been kicked out. Maybe his mother had been right. Maybe it really was time to separate.

Nero walked into something solid, losing his balance for a moment and would have fallen but strong arms held him in place.

"Watch out."

Credo. Just the one person Nero had tried to avoid.

"Sorry", Nero said, rubbing his upper arms when Credo let him go. "Where were you?"

"Went out for a walk. Visited our parents' graves", he replied, staring through Nero. Credo was twenty five years old, seven years older than Kyrie, but seemed to be in his mid-thirties. There were already deep wrinkles on his forehead and around his eyes and his hair started to turn gray.

"I'm sorry for yesterday night –", Nero started but Credo waved him off impatiently, scowling like always.

"It's not your fault, Nero. We'll pull through."

Nero could tell that he wasn't believing his own words and left the building, riding the bus back home. It was depressing to be surrounded by both Kyrie and Credo every day and Nero could feel that they were rubbing off him. And Nero knew he still cared too much and couldn't stop caring, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

Kyrie couldn't exactly pinpoint when she started to feel the change in her life. She couldn't even exactly describe the emotion she constantly felt. It felt like she was being burned from the inside and just tired. Tired of keeping up the nice girl façade, tired of everyone's expectations, tired of living in general. It happened long before her parents had passed away, came crawling one by one. She lost her appetite, lost her motivation to do anything but somehow managed to keep going nonetheless. Routine – the magical thing that gave her life a rhythm to live by.

It all came crushing down when her parents died. The routine she needed was gone, leaving her disoriented and spinning down the road to rock bottom.

Family gives you strength and support. Her family and her religion were the things that had supported Kyrie. But after her parents died, that support was gone. She still kept on praying, asking God why her parents had to die. Her questions were left unanswered. And so, one day, one thing led to another and Kyrie found herself at a house party with people she barely knew. The details were shrouded in darkness – all that she knew today was that one of her friends asked her to come with her and that she didn't even know the host of the party. It was the first time in her life she had ever drunk alcohol – cheap and lukewarm beer and it tasted disgusting. But for the first time since her parents died, Kyrie felt light and carefree. She felt more open, felt free and warm – like flying. But she also lost touch to reality. Many hours later when she staggered home, she had been crying. She didn't know where she was and where she was supposed to go and so she did the only thing her clouded mind could think of – call Nero. And he came to her rescue, just as always. He risked getting into a fight with his parents because he took the car without permission – and that in the middle of the night –, he risked getting pulled over by the police for driving like a madman, he always risked so much when it was involving her.

He picked her up and drove her home – where she instantly ran to the bathroom and spat everything out she had digested on that evening. And Nero... Nero was still there, brushing back her hair as she threw up and handing her a glass of water after everything was over. She remembered how hard she had cried, how Nero had hugged her to his chest, his hands threading through her hair while she had been swearing to never even touch alcohol again.

Hell, wasn't she a hypocrite? Kyrie knew she had a problem but couldn't think of a way to get out of it, liked the feeling of forgetting everything. Because coping with her parents' deaths wasn't her only problem.

By now, she had arrived at the cemetery, clutching a bouquet of white lilies in her hand. Her grip on the flowers tightened even more as she walked the familiar path to her parents' graves. Credo had been here today – there already was a bouquet of lilies lying on top of the grave.

"I'm sorry I forgot about it", Kyrie whispered quietly, throwing the flowers on the grave and kneeling down in front of it. "I wished you still were alive. Things would have turned out so much different."

And she just sat there for a while, staring at the gravestone and letting her tears freely run down her cheeks. "I'm sorry." _I miss you so much. I fucked up my whole life and it gets worse every day. I miss you and I'm sorry for being such a bad daughter._

She was sorry for everything – for being only a nuisance for Credo and her best friend Nero, for not being able to control herself, for having developed an addiction to forgetting and for other dark secrets she carried. Secrets she hoped no one would ever find out – especially her brother and Nero. Secrets that would inevitably make the last two people who gave a fuck about her turn their backs on her …

* * *

"I hate this shit."

"You're not even trying."

"I am!" Dante scrunched up yet another sheet of paper and threw it away. A pile of crumpled notes was already forming all around his bed. Lady sat opposite to him, trying her hardest not to yell at him and scare him off. Dante seemed to try how far he could push her.

"Alright, let me see", she said, reaching out for one crumbled note but Dante quickly snatched it away.

"Don't read them, they're crap", he said, looking disgruntled, "I never knew that writing lyrics is so hard."

"Maybe you learn to appreciate my work more then", Vergil commented without looking up from his laptop. He wore a pair of glasses and didn't bother to spike his hair up today.

Dante stuck out his tongue in response which earned him a scowl from Lady. "Write."

"Okay, okay", he said and raised his hands in a calming gesture, retreating to scribbling words down. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to write about but okay..."

For several minutes, it was quiet on the Devil May Cry tour bus and the only noises were the scraping of pens against paper and the silent tapping of the keys of Vergil's laptop. Then, the door opened and Trish stepped inside. "Look what I found at the flea market!"

All of them stared at the object in Trish's hands. It seemed to be a pan with a cylindrical neck. All around the rim of the pan some small rods in different sizes were attached, making the thing basically look like half a birdcage with a huge stick in the middle.

"What's that?", Dante asked, eying the thing suspiciously.

"A waterphone", Trish said as if it was obvious.

"What's that?", he asked again, making Lady snigger.

"I'll show you", Trish said with a grin, setting the so-called waterphone aside and fetching her violan bow from the instrument case that laid beneath her bed. "Come on, let's go outside."

They followed her, curious in what she was going to show them. Once outside, Trish grabbed the thing by its neck and leaned it onto her hip. Then, she slowly brushed against the rods with her bow. As soon as the bow touched the rods, a shrill sound resonated through the air, making everyone's hairs stay on end. She shook the waterphone slightly and the sound shook with it, sounding distant and distorted. Alien, otherworldly.

"Holy fuck, Trish. You just opened the gate to hell", Dante said. "That sounds like those weird mysterious noises they make in horror movies."

"Yup, because that's the instrument they use to create such noises", Trish said smugly. "Well, either that or to call whales underwater." She eyed the small rods intensely. "I'll just have to clean it a bit – and it's a little rusty. It was pretty cheap anyway so I guess that's okay."

Vergil raised his brows. "A rare instrument like that? Are you serious?"

"I think the guy didn't even know it was an instrument." Again, Trish scraped against the small rods with the bow, creating a harsh and high dissonant sound. Then, she stuck the bow between them, shaking it a little, making clatter-like noises that resonated through the cage-like structure of the waterphone.

"I'm not sure about that either", Dante commented, sounding doubtful.

"I'm pretty sure we can use it somehow", Trish said confidently, "I already have some ideas." She gave everyone an encouraging smile which was returned by a big grin from Dante, a short nod by Lady and a shrug by Vergil. All of them went back to work then – Lady and Dante writing lyrics (or in Dante's case _trying_ to write lyrics), Vergil working on his laptop and Trish cleaning her new instrument. She brushed against the steel rods all the time though and created silent, spooky noises in the background. At first, it irritated everyone on the bus but they had already learned to accept the other's odd habits and didn't try to waste their energy by arguing over things like this. They would adapt to the new instrument eventually.

As Trish kept on cleaning it, she thought about the dynamics of band life. Being together like this in a small tour bus all the time was a challenge and she was able to cherish that they stuck together and accepted each other. But still – there were some things that unnerved her.

Like Dante collecting sluts. All of them already walked into him when he had sex in their bus with a random hook-up and no matter how often he and Vergil would fight – Dante just couldn't set his priorities straight.

But that wasn't the only problem. Dante's more or less open sex life reminded Trish how sexually frustrated she was herself. Being on the road didn't give you a lot of opportunities to go out and get to know somebody. She wasn't the type for casual sex with people she didn't know.

Her hand stilled on the waterphone and she looked into the distance, weighing her options. There was no way that she'd ever ask Dante for release. _No way in hell._

What was the other option then?

Trish sighed and rubbed her temple. _Maybe Lady is right_, she thought, _Women always get the short end of the stick._

And suddenly, Trish found herself thinking back how everything started, how her life had changed drastically and how she became the person she was now...

\ Flashback \

Trish entered her apartment, feeling all bubbly and happy on the inside. She just came back from band practice where Vergil had announced the good news: a label actually answered their letter and also offered them a contract. And not only one label but _Mundus Records_ – _the_ rock and metal that had produced multiple international successful bands. It was their key to start touring all over the world if everything worked out as planned.

They had popped a bottle of champagne and celebrated. Things were working out so well, it was almost too good to be true.

Carefully, Trish set down her guitar and violin, noticing that she was still a little tipsy. She giggled quietly, taking some uneven steps in the direction of her bathroom when she noticed the little red light on her answering machine. When she stepped closer and viewed the number on the receiver, her breath hitched, any form of happiness vanishing from her. This number... it was too familiar. She had dialed it so many times and always avoided a call. Shaking allover, she pressed the button.

"Trish...", a small voice said. It was clearly female, the caller sounding some years younger than Trish. "I knew you wouldn't pick up and I don't expect you to call back but please..." – A sharp intake of breath, followed by a shaky sigh – "Dad passed away yesterday. Mom wanted me to let you know. I'm pretty sure you will delete this message anyway."

_Dad passed away yesterday... _

Trish leaned against the wall, holding her stomach. All of a sudden, she felt sick. Memories started to resurface, memories she had buried and never wanted to come back.

_I don't expect you to call back... _

Patty – her little sister was right. Trish never called back. She never answered any of their letters. This family didn't exist for her. But why did the death of her father shock her so much then?

Next thing Trish knew was that she was cold. Gingerly, she got up (how did she end up on the floor anyway?) and staggered to the bathroom.

The water of the shower washed over her and she stayed there until the spray was ice cold, her mind not registering how hard she was shaking. Images played before her eyes – things she thought she had long forgotten but somehow still were there. Ghosts of a past which existence she denied.

"_What does that mean? _Adopted_?"_

"_It means that we're not biologically related, Trish."_

_Silence. A small hand that reached out for Trish but she flinched away, frowning at the baby in her mother's arms. "And Patty? What about her? You didn't adopt her, did you?"_

"_No, she's –"_

"_Who are my real parents?"_

"We_ are your parents, Trish!"_

"_Why am I not with my real parents?"_

"_Go to your room!"_

"_Don't order me around, you've been lying to me for years!"_

_The rest was a blur. The next thing Trish remembered was the loud thumping that came from the bedroom, a voice screaming and moaning. She didn't recognize the woman who was in her parents' bed with her father... and suddenly, hands were pressed against her throat, chocking her. "You will never tell your mother of this, understand? You will keep quiet."_

_Weeks passed. A year passed. And Trish never uttered a single word. _

You will keep quiet. _The bruises on her neck reminded her of that everyday when she looked in the mirror, even long after they had faded. _

"_Something's wrong with her", her so-called 'mother' kept on repeating, her 'father' insisting that he had no clue what it was. Trish stopped talking, stopped interacting with her family and friends, even stopped eating after a while. It was a mystery to her mom what had traumatized Trish. She started blaming herself for it, thinking she should have taken more time when telling Trish that she was adopted, maybe the age of ten was too young for such a burden. The sanatorium was her last resort._

_The scenery changed again: a white room. White curtains, white walls, white bedsheets, white light. Everything was white and sterile. _

"_This place is your home now."_

Trish screamed in rage, punching the mirror in front of her. It merely cracked – and so did her wrist. She would tell the other band members that she injured herself when she fell down the stairs of her apartment. None of them would spot the lie, not even Dante. She became good at lying – so good that sometimes, even Trish herself couldn't tell truth or lie apart. Or reality and dream for that matter.

"_You have to be at least a little insane when you're an artist, Trish. Now take your bow and play the melody again, my dear." _

_The only noise, the only light in the white darkness – the piece of wood that she pinned underneath her chin. Just notes, resonating from a slightly creaking and worn-out instrument. Trish had already started to play the violin when she turned four, having it seen at a concert on TV once. She asked for the instrument until her parents finally gave in, never expecting her to turn out so talented. _

_Trish learned to use the violin as her voice; the only way she could express herself, the only way to let go of everything that plagued her …_

_The letter came three years after her institutionalization. An official apology from her father, together with some money. Trish burned the letter, deciding that the money would be good enough to get some drugs to end her existence but when she went to town, her life changed suddenly._

_When she walked past a music shop, she noticed her: the black lacquered five-stringed violin. Maybe she was her life-saver. Maybe this was the sign Trish had hoped for. A reason to keep going. It proved to be true in the end._

\ Flashback End \

* * *

"Dante."

There was no mistaking, this sultry deep voice could belong only to one person. Dante smirked widely into his phone. "Nevan. Long time, no see."

"Been busy, you know", she replied with a small chuckle.

"Yeah, I know", Dante said, "You're on tour currently, aren't you?"

"And that's why I'm calling", she said, "You have a violinist, right? Could we burrow her for our show in Fortuna?"

"You're coming to Fortuna, too?", Dante asked, "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Why that?", she retorted, "Do you want to rekindle an old flame?" She laughed quietly, making Dante feel as if she was mocking him. "You shouldn't live in the past, Dante."

"Why do you need Trish anyway?", he asked harshly, all playfulness vanished from his voice.

"Our guest violinist broke her wrist. Please, Dante – Fortuna is our grand finale and I don't know who else we could turn to." Her voice turned softer, a faint trace of desperation swinging with it.

"When do you need her?", Dante asked with a sigh.

"Saturday night."

"That's in less than a week.. why didn't you call earlier?"

"Dante... please."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll talk to Trish."

"And who knows what will happen after the show, sugar", Nevan added before ending the call, leaving Dante slightly confused but with a goofy grin on his lips.

Nevan meanwhile stared at her cellphone, absentmindedly brushing over the display with her thumb, her long artificial nails silently clicking against it.

_Dante_... that idiot. They used to be so close, so very close – until they were suddenly too close and it ruined their friendship. She sighed quietly, running her fingers through her long red hair. She didn't even remember what her natural hair color looked like, having dyed it crimson for almost ten years now.

"_Natalie is such a common name. You should get a stage name."_

"_Really Dante?", she had huffed,"A stage name?"_

"_Yes, of course! Or do you want to be remembered as 'Natalie' when you're famous?!"_

"_What would you suggest then?"_

_He had thumbed through their history book and she started laughing. "Oh my god, that's where you're taking your inspiration from? Seriously?!"_

"_Shhh, I got a plan, babe."_

_A minute later he let out a sound of victory. "How about Nevan?"_

_She raised a brow. "Does that even have a meaning?"_

"_The book says it means 'saintly'. Vergil told me books never lie so I suppose it's true."_

_Sometimes Dante was just too naïve for his own good. _

_She tried to stifle her laughter. "Saintly? Are you serious? I'm all but a saint and you know that."_

"_That's exactly why it fits so well to you. I'm gonna call you like that now, like it or not."_

"So, what did he say?"

Nevan flinched at the sound of the voice of her band's cellist. Lucia stared back at her, her green-blue eyes widening slightly at Nevan's startled look. "Hey, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, sure. Dante told me he'll talk to Trish."

"Okay then."

Nevan watched Lucia walk away, her bright red braid swinging with every step she took. When they met for the first time some years ago, they got into a fight. Not some cat-fight but a physical fight where they tried to seriously injure the other. None of them remembered why it got that far in the first place or why they suddenly attacked each other – both of them knew that at some point, they just started laughing. Laughing madly and nothing seemed to make it stop. They became friends, made music together... Nevan thought the band would be a great opportunity to keep herself occupied, it was her lifeline, the thing that kept her afloat when she threatened to sink.

She remembered how they had played together in the basement of Lucia's house – they started with classical music since they were both classically trained. Nevan started singing professionally at the age of ten, her voice flowering into a smooth alto after six years of hard training.

Lucia had meanwhile switched from an acoustic cello to an electric instrument – which almost caused a family tragedy. Both her parents were quite conservative, didn't like the thought of their daughter "going wild".

"I can't play Rachmaninoff forever", Lucia had said with a sad smile, "Saying that I want to distort sounds, that I want to play with melodies, that I want to experiment is the equivalent of spitting on the pope for them. But it's my life."

"They probably think you'll rebel against them", Nevan had retorted, making her laugh.

"I already do. Might as well go all the way, right?"

So they founded a band and asked another girl from their music school if she wanted to join: Kat, their keyboardist and specialist for distortion and layering sounds. She was the youngest in their band, barely eighteen years old and just fresh out of school and straight into band life. Sometimes Nevan envied her, thinking that everything just fell into Kat's lap. But at the same time, Nevan knew that her jealousy was without any reason. Still – she just couldn't shut her mind up.

Kat linked the elements of their music together – without all her electronic devices, they wouldn't be able to play live. Kat did all the percussion, helped making concepts, preparing live shows and integrated herself into the band neatly. Nevan liked to think of her as a little sister – someone she needed to protect, someone whose innocence needed to be treasured.

And then, there was Lucia, of course – the cello was the leading instrument in the band, playing smooth background melodies and also mind-numbing solo passages.

Also, all of them sang. Nevan was in the center of the attention, Lucia and Kat both did back-up vocals. Just as everything in their music, that singing was layered, elaborately recorded to add to the atmosphere. All of them also knew that they would be screwed if Kat's magical machines ever broke, so they took great care of them.

Nevan was contented with their line-up, glad that all of them got along and that everyone contributed to the band's success.

"Nevan, you coming?" Lucia's voice ended her brooding session. She quickly walked back into the venue, helping the other girls to set their instruments and microphones up and preparing for their gig tonight, feeling strangely giddy all the while.

"Maybe calling Dante wasn't such a good idea after all", Lucia whispered to her while they checked the sound, making Nevan frown.

"Why did you suddenly change your mind?", Nevan asked, "It was your idea to ask him in the fir–"

"You look forward to seeing him", Lucia intervened, stating the obvious.

"So? I didn't see him for two years. And we're friends. Of course I want to see him again."

"_Friends_...", Lucia repeated with a raised brow. "Sure. And that's what worries me. He's not good for you. Dante has always used you. Don't you remember when –"

"_You swore to never remind me of that_", Nevan hissed sharply, making Lucia jerk back.

She shook her head. "Fine, Nev. Try to repress it then. It would be better for you to just hate him instead of constantly denying the truth."

"Why are we even discussing that?", Nevan said angrily.

Lucia's gaze softened. "Hey, you know that I'm not against you, right?" She stepped closer, laying a hand on her shoulder and pulling her into a hug despite Nevan's protests. "You deserve better. You deserve someone who loves you, who would do everything for you without missing a beat."

"Dante loved me."

"He didn't. He never did. And he doesn't now", Lucia retorted. But just as always, Nevan was too stubborn to acknowledge the truth. "And you should accept it."

Nevan huffed out a breath, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. She told Lucia herself after the... incident with Dante to always remind her of that, and even though she hated hearing it she was thankful for the constant reminder. She couldn't let herself believe that she meant something to Dante, had to stop thinking about him and the things that happened years ago. She had to move on and Lucia made sure to remind her of that every now and then.

Still, hopefully her sour mood wouldn't influence their gig tonight...

* * *

"Guess who landed a job for you."

"Certainly not you, Dante."

"Hey!"

Trish sniggered quietly, looking up at him.

"And there I thought I'd do you a favor...", he huffed, sitting down next to her.

"What job?", Trish asked curiously.

"Remember Nevan? They need a violinist for the last gig in Fortuna of their tour."

"Nevan? Isn't that the front singer of... what was that band called..."

"_Drown Like Ophelia_."

"Sounds like some goth darkwave shi–"

"Why are you so negative?"

Trish stared back at him, unsure what to say. "It's nothing, I just... When do they need me?"

"Next Saturday."

Her eyes widened. "Already? Wow. I'm not sure if that's possible. I don't even know any of their songs."

Dante drew his mp3-player and a set of headphones. "We can work on that."

Trish reluctantly accepted the items. "Why are you making an effort for her?", she asked, "You never care about anyone or anything but suddenly you do everything to help Nevan? A girl you haven't seen in two years?"

Dante looked quite uncomfortable, silently asking himself what was suddenly going on with Trish. She's been acting this bitchy ever since last night.

"I have a feeling that I owe her something", he confessed quietly, "I told you many times that Nevan and I have a complicated past. I think... I think that we're even if her final show is a success."

"Why?", Trish asked, looking through the music library of his player.

"I can't talk about that", Dante said, "I just want us to be even."

Trish bit her lip, trying to hide her disappointment. It was strange that she never let anyone get too close to her, and yet was disappointed it was the other way round.

"Dante... I don't understand why you put more effort into her band than in yours."

To him, the accusation felt like a stab to the gut. Dante swallowed hard. "I don't."

"You're doing her a favor. When was the last time you did something for us?"

"I tried to write lyrics today!", he immediately tried to justify himself.

Trish raised a brow, letting him be. At least for now.

Then, Dante took the small device from her hands, searching for a song. Trish noticed that his hand was shaking a little – the movement was almost not noticeable but she still saw it. Damn, what happened between him and Nevan?

When he finally found what he had been looking for, he gave the headphones to Trish, gesturing her to put them on. She listened to the song, taking in the skillful layering of the cello and piano sequences, noticing the special effects and Nevan's hauntingly beautiful voice. But the lyrics... a love song, filled with yearning and desperation.

_I wonder if Nevan's obsessed with the Ophelia figure_, Trish thought. _Suffering for love, almost going mad... Seems as if she got her heart broken once._

The song ended with a dramatic trill on the cello and Trish pushed down the headphones, noticing Dante had stared at her the entire song.

"So...?", he asked, looking hopeful and excited. Like a little child on Christmas Eve.

"I'll do it", Trish said. _Not like I have another choice. You owe her, my ass._

"Thanks", he said, crushing her in a tight hug. "Thank you, Trish. I knew you wouldn't disappoint me." He let go of her, looking strangely relieved.

_Maybe Nevan's song was about Dante..._, Trish thought as she fetched her violan, immediately brushing off the thought. It was ridiculous, right?

… right?

She tuned the instrument before trying to re-create the sounds she just heard. She didn't really know what Nevan wanted from her and guessed she just had to improvise on stage.

_Why am I feeling so strange about this?_

* * *

_Livor mortis – the decaying of inner organs, one of the signs of death. _

Light brown eyes stared at the article that popped out of nowhere, a shaking hand clicking the link. A website with a plain and dark design showed up. A blog about health and dieting, apparently. But looks can be deceiving. It was a camouflaged proAna website – a website that glamorized and glorified eating disorders, filled with tips of how to starve yourself "beautiful", never mentioning that anorexia and bulimia were dangerous diseases.

Kyrie timidly stared at the screen. _Do I really want to know about that?_

It had started so innocently – the first time she purged after that party she didn't remember. It was an accident because she had been drinking too much. Now throwing up and drinking had become her routine and she didn't know how to stop it.

Her hand twitched on the mouse. She knew about the consequences of bulimia, knew how far it could go, knew that it could end with death. And most importantly – she knew she had to stop it.

Kyrie had no idea how she has been able to keep her disease – her abnormality – to herself for so long. She didn't want to ask Credo or Nero for help, she didn't want to be a heavier burden to either of them. It was stupid of her but she was ashamed of admitting her flaws, started to hate herself for being too complicated to get along with anyone and afraid that her brother and best friend would turn on her, would be disgusted of her.

Her eyes focused on the computer screen again. A report about the worst case scenario: death. Death by starving yourself, by killing yourself from the inside.

She took a shaking breath and started to read: _Subject was nineteen years old when she died after her stomach ripped after eating roughly 5 liters of food._

_Stomach showed a blue/green-ish tint, insides starting to digest themselves. Contents of her stomach spilled into her body cavity, blood and food settling around her anus and vagina, creating bruise-like spots. Autopsy showed that her stomach had been extended from where the ribs meet each other all the way to pubic bone, behind the pad of fat above the genitals. Large rip in stomach._

_Heart was unusually small, probably starving; showing destroyed muscles and dead immune cells. Brain had swelled, most likely due to massive increase in blood flow after stomach rupture._

_Stomach seemed to be dying before it ripped, expanded so far that the blood vessels were crushed due to subject's constant binging. Blood supply to the area was cut off, the tissue weakened and dead._

_Cause of death: immune reaction. Blood vessels dilated, blood pressure dropped, heart slowed down and eventually stopped. _

_Unusual rupture of stomach (right down the front), most likely due to the overfilling (human stomachs hold up to 4 liters of food)._

Kyrie put a hand in front of her mouth, choking back a sob and the urge to throw up again in disgust. This had to end. No matter how, it must end or otherwise she might end up dead in the future.

She closed the laptop, holding her stomach that ached just from reading about that. Turning around, she laid on her bed, pulling up her knees. God, she felt like shit. Firstly, she treated Nero like crap simply because she was having mood swings again, then she forgets to put flowers on her parents' graves and now this. She wasn't being easy on anyone, let alone herself. Where was the meaning in her existence and where was her faith when she needed it the most? Why bother living if she's going to die someday? Might as well continue doing what she was doing to herself.

* * *

Nero fidgeted in his seat, trying to hide his phone from the teacher. He has texted Kyrie the second time now and still received no response. Slowly but surely he was getting worried. She never took long to reply, even if it only was some gibberish to let Nero know she read the message. Maybe he was overreacting but he still wanted at least a sign of life.

Kyrie meanwhile didn't hear her phone ring, being slumped down on the bathroom floor next to the toilet. But she heard Credo knocking at the door.

"Are you alright?"

_No. _"Yes, I'm okay!" _Calm down, goddammit. Your voice is shaking too much, calm the fuck down._

The knob turned and Kyrie was glad she had locked the door. "Kyrie, let me inside –"

"I told you I'm alright!", she shouted, realizing a second later that she sounded absolutely hysteric.

Silence followed that. Kyrie waited with bated breath for Credo to say something.

"That's it, I'm staying at home today", he said firmly, making Kyrie's stomach churn. He couldn't stay here, he'd get suspicious... She leaned over the toilet bowl, feeling her stomach giving a throb before everything spilled out again. It felt like she reached the point where she didn't even know herself if she was vomiting on purpose or because she actually was sick.

Kyrie got up, flushing the toilet and noticing that she was shaking allover. She spilled water in her face and quickly brushed her teeth, trying to get the taste of bile out of her mouth.

When she opened the bathroom door, Credo was standing there, looking at her with concern. All she wanted to do was to tell him how fucked-up her situation was, to ask for help, to just cry on his shoulder while he would assure that everything will be alright. Just like he did after their parents' deaths.

But then she remembered that how much trouble she was causing him constantly. Right now as well.

"Go to work", she said quietly. "We need the money for the rent. I'll be okay."

"Kyrie, you are obviously not okay", Credo retorted, impatiently waving her off. "I'm staying, period. Now get some rest."

She was too tired to argue and went back to her room, noticing her phone was blinking. Kyrie looked at the screen. Two texts from Nero:

"_Where are you?"_

"_You still owe me an explanation for yesterday."_

Oh yeah, that. Kyrie tossed her phone aside, climbing back into her bed, feeling her stomach churn unpleasantly again. Maybe she was being paranoid but she thought that Nero had somehow guessed what was wrong. And she didn't want to face him anytime soon.

* * *

A shrill cry of the violin pierced the silence, an insane sequence of notes following it. Dante stared at Trish, mouth agape, eyes big as saucers as she unleashed a solo on the instrument. Her fingers moved so _fast_, the bow gliding over the strings with precision, hitting every single note on the spot. It was absolutely amazing and Dante wondered how many years of practice this had taken. Trish tapped her sound effect pedal, the sound taking a harsh shriek, the distortion letting his hairs stand on end as Trish knocked out the final notes on the highest section of the instrument before almost violently tearing the bow away from the strings, only the echo of the song hanging in the air.

Dante rubbed his eyes, slowly closing his mouth. "Well fuck me, that was incredible!", he shouted in excitement, holding out his fist and Trish bumped her knuckles against it. "How the hell did you learn that so fast?"

Trish shrugged in reply. "That's what roughly eighteen years of practice are for, after all."

"Amazing...", Dante whispered quietly, staring at the violin in Trish's lap. It looked so plain, had only a faint resemblance to a classical violin – just a piece of lacquered wood with some plastic and metal parts and five strings, and yet Trish was able to make into a weapon of destruction.

Trish grabbed a can of beer out of the sixpack they bought, gulping the liquid down quickly, licking her lips afterwards. "So, how's your songwriting progressing?", she asked Dante whose face darkened at the question.

"I don't know what to write about", he replied after some minutes, "I only have some lines in my head but none of that is a real song and it pisses me off. What about you?"

"Hmm, so far I have a start and that's it."

"Can I hear it?"

"'_Home' is a concept, a state of mind but never a place._"

Dante was quiet for a second, again just staring at her. "Damn, that's quite good."

Trish chuckled quietly. "Thanks."

"You have a title yet?"

"_Martyr_."

Dante didn't comment on that, frowning. Why the hell would Trish write a song with such a title? She didn't seem like a person who suffered a lot. At least she didn't seem like that to him. Maybe he didn't knew her as well as he had thought initially...

Meanwhile, Trish had stood up again and raised the instrument to secure it under her chin to replay the solo. Slowly but surely, her own song came along – bit by bit...


	3. Obsession

**Galaxies**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Devil May Cry and its characters = © Capcom. I don't make any profit from this story.  
Unless otherwise stated, the lyrics that appear in this story are written by me, specifically for this fic and are story-relevant.

* * *

**Main pairings: **Vergil x Lady, implied Nero x Kyrie, implied Dante x Trish, implied Dante x Nevan, eventual Dante x Nero

**Warnings in general:** Contains uncomfortable topics like anorexia and bulimia, abuse, domestic violence, depression, self harm, drug abuse and sex.

**Warnings for this chapter:** language, drug abuse, suggestive themes and voyeurism. Also, Dante x Nevan and graphic Trish x OC.

_The lyrics of "Where Did You Sleep Last Night" belong to Nirvana._

* * *

Track #3: Obsession

Nevan couldn't believe how quickly the week has passed and how the final day of their tour had arrived. They would play in the _Sunken Opera_ in Fortuna. Once, it had been the most prestigious building of the city but after a fire ruined it, that prestige was gone. Someone bought and renovated it years later, turning it into a concert venue for alternative artists, a cross-over between a burlesque bar and a cabaret theater.

But nearly twenty years of decay left their marks on the building itself and its environment. And so, today the _Sunken Opera_ was surrounded by the red light district, the last place where one would actually build a concert hall. But the drinks were cheap and there were enough people to get the place going. It was still kinda ironic that such a club existed in a city like Fortuna that held an ambitious past and history. But the last generation of honorable Fortunians was slowly dying out anyway.

Meanwhile, the members of _Drown Like Ophelia_ were getting ready for their final gig. Nevan currently was seated in front of the mirror of their dressing room, applying enormous fake eye lashes as the final touch of her make up. Her fingers were shaking a little, her stomach churning. She would see Dante again tonight.

_Finally, after two years you can show him that you're better off without him, that you don't need him, that you never needed him in the first place._

_Is that why you are writing songs about him? Is that why you still always think of him? You even took the stage name he suggested to you. Why can't you let him go?_

_I don't love him, I don't love him, I don't love him, I don't – _

"Hey Nevan", Trish interrupted Nevan's racing thoughts, peeking into the dressing room. "Sorry, I'm late."

Nevan leaped up from her seat. "Trish!" She hugged her amiably. "God, it must've been two years! It's good to see you again."

They've met a few times in the past, Trish always being around Dante and the rest of the band but didn't go to the same school. Nevan never liked that Trish found her way inside the small group and got that close to Dante, always having seen her as concurrence.

Trish gently pushed Nevan away at an arm's length, observing her face. "Wow, you changed a lot. I like that look on you."

"Thanks", Nevan said, brushing away the hair that got in front of her eye and tangled up in her lashes. "You should set up your monitors, we're starting in about an hour. Lucia will explain to you how our shows are run."

"Alright", Trish said, opening her instrument case and fetching her violan and the corresponding cables.

"And Trish?", Nevan added with a smile. "Thanks a lot for doing this, I don't even know what we would do –"

"It's no big deal at all", Trish said with a smile of her own, and then she was out of the door. If Trish was honest with herself, she was slightly crept out. Something about this just didn't feel right and thinking back, Nevan had never been this kind to her. Of course, her fixation on Dante was the reason for that; Trish knew Nevan didn't like it that they've become close, most likely thinking of Trish as her replacement.

Nevan turned back to the mirror, staring at her own image. She already wore her stage outfit, only the finishing touches were missing.

For their shows, Nevan wore a long black dress with a deep cleavage. The skirt of the dress had a long cut-out so that her legs would still be visible when she moved. Furthermore, the dress had a stole that was cut to look like bat wings, the edges tattered and slashed, making Nevan look like a vampire on stage when she stretched out her arms. Usually, she also wore red contact lenses to enhance the vampiric look. Her make up was always dramatic, most of the time purple or blue, mixed with black, sharply contrasting to her flaming red hair.

And today, Nevan decided to add something to the whole ensemble. Carefully, she secured a necklace around her neck – it had a huge dark amethyst gem, large bat wings surrounding it. A little faceted drop was dangling beneath the stone, shimmering whenever it was hit by light.

Nevan took a deep breath, trying to calm down. It was ridiculous how fixated she was on looking perfect tonight. It didn't matter what she looked like, the performance mattered.

She pulled a small packet out of her purse, a piece of thin filter paper and a regular cigarette filter following. Then, she folded the paper, placing the filling of her joint on it before quickly rolling and lighting it up.

Nevan took a drag, feeling some of the tension falling off her. It's no hard drug, so it doesn't count, right? Right. She wouldn't get addicted to it anyway. Well, that's what she told herself whenever she smoked.

Slowly but surely, everything didn't seem that grim anymore. And tonight, oh tonight would be the grand finale! And Dante …? He'd see …

Nevan got up from her seat, checking make up and hair one last time before going backstage to help the other girls set up everything.

* * *

"It's going to be interesting to see Nevan again after those two years, isn't it Dante?", Lady asked as they entered the _Sunken Opera_.

Dante nodded absentmindedly, not really paying attention to what Lady was saying. Him and Nevan both had agreed to act on a friendly basis towards each other but in the end, they couldn't even be friends anymore. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to see her tonight...

When they finally made their way in, Lady and Vergil immediately went to the stage where the girls were currently warming up for the show. Trish wasn't there though. Instead, Kat was playing some notes on the piano, all of them trying to imitate the notes with their voices.

Kat stopped playing as soon as they reached the stage, getting up to greet them. Dante didn't register what they were chit-chatting about, only being able to stare at Nevan. Was that really the same girl he used to know?

His feet moved on their own accord and suddenly he was in front of the stage, looking up at her. Nevan smiled lightly, a trace of bitterness in her eyes. "Welcome, sir!", she said in a mocking tone of a voice, "Is this your first time here?"

Dante grinned smugly. "Yeah... it is. You'll be _nice_ to me, won't you?"

Nevan's smile got wider and she held out a hand to Dante to help him climb up the stage. "Of course I will. I'll treat you so nicely, you'll never want to leave."

Dante grabbed her hand but instead of climbing up, he pulled Nevan down. She gave a startled yelp but Dante caught her, pulling her into a tight hug, nuzzling her hair.

"Hey, hey, I'm happy to see you as well but you're ruining my hair!" Nevan tried to ignore her heart that was hammering like crazy against her ribcage. She wasn't supposed to feel this way, she wasn't supposed to have such strong feelings like that for an asshole like Dante.

"Oh come on, Nev!", Dante complained, not loosening his hold on her, "When was the last time we've seen each other, huh?"

She smacked him on the arm and he let her go with a shout. "I don't know."

"You don't seem happy at all." Dante pouted, making Nevan giggle.

"You suck at that, Dante."

"But it works with Trish every time..."

Nevan rolled her eyes, climbing onto the stage again. "Take a look around, guys. They open the doors in half an hour."

While Vergil and Lady busied themselves with looking at Kat's equipment ("What do you mean you do all the percussion? There's no drum set here!"), Dante looked for Trish. She had been right, seeing Nevan again had made memories resurface.

He passed the backstage area, aiming for the dressing rooms. Maybe she was still getting ready for the show? The door to the room was open a crack and just when Dante wanted to knock, a low moan resounded from the other side of the door.

He froze. _What the fuck...? _He shouldn't be doing this but curiosity won over conscience and he peeked inside the room, gasping when he took in what was happening.

Trish was leaning back on a couch that was placed inside the room and between her spread legs, a guy was kneeling, eagerly pleasuring her.

Dante's mind went blank. _'Besides, you're not the only one with needs...' _Was _that_ what she had meant?!

But still, he couldn't tear his gaze away from the scene, captivated by the sounds that poured from Trish's throat, the way her hair stuck to her face, her hands that gripped the dark locks of the man in front of her tightly. Her eyes were closed, pleasure was flickering over her face and for once, she looked completely relaxed.

Dante had to get out of here. Right now. Somehow, he found half the mind to stumble into the direction of the next bathroom, strangely aroused from what he just witnessed.

Trish meanwhile started to rock her hips with every lick to her core, feeling like she was going crazy after all those weeks where she had been deprived of any sexual stimulation. She didn't even know how she and this staff member (whose name she didn't know either) ended up in this position and she honestly didn't care.

His hands traveled from their positions on her thighs to her lower back, pulling her even closer to his mouth if that were possible, steadily sucking on her sensitive swollen flesh. Trish yanked on his hair in response, feeling herself reaching her end before she climaxed with a choked moan.

He trailed kisses up her thighs, traveling over her still clothed stomach to her mouth but Trish flinched when he tried kissing her.

She got up, quickly fixing her pants and hair, hoping that no one would notice the pink flush on her face. "Um … thanks, I guess?" Hell, what was she supposed to say after an encounter like that?

The guy smirked, quirking a brow. "It was a pleasure." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a husky laugh before making his way out of the door to the control panel to start the show.

As soon as he was out of sight, Trish felt like shit. What did that incident make her? A slut? A bitch? Could it be bad if she enjoyed it?! Dante did stuff like that all the time and never felt any guilt so why was Trish now feeling as if she did something wrong?

She stared into the mirror of the dressing room, her own reflection suddenly foreign to her. Trish frowned. _To hell with all that bullshit, I'm not feeling bad about anything._

* * *

_How did she manage to drag me with her this time?_

Nero sighed quietly, running a hand through his hair. He had no clue where Kyrie went this time or why he was at a concert with her again. At the_ Sunken Opera_, no less – a district any underage person should avoid. But Kyrie always managed to get her way.

She still owed him an explanation for last week. Nero had a faint idea of what was wrong with Kyrie and prayed to any god that would listen that he was just imagining things. But after having seen her without her make-up, after having noticed how skinny she was … she couldn't be anorexic, could she?

Nero made his way to the bar, ordering a beer. The bartender didn't even ask for his ID, setting a slightly dusty bottle of a cheap brand in front of him.

Nero opened it, taking a sip and making a face. _Ugh, not really what I was expecting._

He took a look around in the venue then. The furnishings looked quite nice, actually. Black lacquered wood with red velvet cushions, giving off that artistic 40s vibe of black and white movies. The walls were covered with gray and black wallpaper with a Victorian floral pattern, a big chandelier was hanging down from the ceiling in the front of the venue. There were some pictures on the walls, a mix between photographs of pin-up or goth models in modern glass picture frames and illustrations of the Victorian and Edwardian era on yellowed and vintage-looking paper. Basically, someone had taken everything remotely goth and thrown it together to create a dark and yet sophisticated interior.

A heavy purple curtain was in front of the old school-looking stage, a crowd having already gathered there, waiting for the band that would start to play soon.

Nero took a closer look at the people, noticing that many of them seemed to be goths. The girls wore fancy dresses, either inspired by the Victorian age with lots of ruffles and lace, or by cabaret theater with bold black and white stripes and patterns. Many wore corsets (Nero wondered how they were able to breathe in those things) and high heeled PVC boots.

Nero didn't have any link to the gothic subculture but regarding them certainly was interesting. Despite the fact that all of them were dressed in black, every person looked individual and different from the other.

There weren't many men in the audience but Nero noticed that those were clothed in the same style as the women, making him feel as if he just landed in the middle of a Victorian funeral. Some metalheads could be found in the crowd as well, contrasting to the goths with their washed out jeans and colorful band shirts. And... wait …

Nero rubbed his eyes. There, at the right side in front of the stage were three band members of _Devil May Cry_! What were they doing here? Dante – the arrogant guy who always wore that red trench coat, his twin brother... Vergil? Was that his name? And their bassist with the many scars – Lady.

Nero took another gulp of his beer, trying to ignore its bitter taste, and took a closer look.

No doubt, it was them. That still left the question open of why they were there. Nero's grip on the bottle tightened suddenly. Where was Kyrie? With that beast Dante in here …

"Gosh Nero, don't look so grim." Kyrie appeared out of nowhere, snatching the beer from his hand and quickly chugging it down. "Ew, that's gross. And warm." She scrunched up her nose but kept drinking nonetheless.

"Where were you?", Nero asked her, once more noticing that he was slowly turning into Credo.

"Oh, I just looked around a little, talked to some people, tried to avoid Dante... This is actually a nice ve–"

"Avoid Dante?"

She didn't meet Nero's scrutinizing gaze, looking a little uncomfortable. "I already told you what happened."

"You still didn't explain to me why you threw me out on Sunday."

"Nero, please –"

"No, I want an explanation. You promised." Nero hated how whiny he sounded but he was getting tired of this. Kyrie kept on making promises she always broke, kept on having secrets, kept on shutting him out but simultaneously she wanted him to stay close by. Nero felt as if she was using him.

"Can we go closer to the stage?", Kyrie asked him and Nero felt as if he was having a déjà vu.

"Sure...", he mumbled, shuffling behind her. "Can you tell me why you wanted to see them live?"

"Nevan is an amazing alto", Kyrie said, making Nero raise a brow in question. "The front singer", she added quickly, "She has that amazing, smoky voice! And I love that their main instrument is an electric cello."

"You're actually listening to this band?"

"Umm... yes?" She looked at him as if he was crazy. "Of course I do. Not usually my genre but well..."

Always a surprise. Nero smiled a little, pulling Kyrie in by her waist and giving her a quick hug, making her laugh lightly. It almost felt like back then when the world wasn't as complicated and they had less things to worry about.

Dante watched them from a distance, feeling a strange bubbling in his gut. Somehow, he wanted to have this... _thing_ Nero and that girl had going, knowing that with his past and his attitude he could only wish for that. It looked so natural and easy – the way he was holding her, how both of them were laughing. They seemed happy just being together like this.

Dante held his head. Maybe he was getting sick. And helping Nevan out had indeed proven to be a bad decision. When he made the move to leave, it was too late though. The lights in the audience dimmed, the ones on stage lighting up. Smoke filled the stage – thick and strangely smelling like coconut and cigarettes, sweet but with that bitter edge. Like Nevan herself.

Dante just couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she entered the stage. She was standing right in the center of the attention, lights coming from behind so that she seemed like a ghostly silhouette, her arms stretched out wide and making her look like a majestic queen of the night. Lucia and Kat appeared on either side of Nevan, dark red and blue lights making their skin shine in ghostly colors.

It was an interesting sight with Nevan as the dark one in the middle, dressed in black while Lucia who sat on the right side of the stage wore white, the silvery electric cello secured between her legs reflecting the stage lights. Kat was on the left side of the stage, wearing a purple cloak, the e-piano in front of her decorated with baroque swirls and the band's logo. She straightened herself in the next moment, looking at Nevan in anticipation.

The song started with a long, drawn-out note from Nevan's throat, hanging in the air and making everyone's hairs stand at end. Lucia and Kat joined a moment after, steadily descending until suddenly a whole Latin choir resounded from the speakers – Kat's handiwork with layering their music samples.

Nevan's solo faded and slowly, a deep rumbling came from the cello, getting louder and louder, joined by octaves on the piano on the deepest range. The sound of bells echoed through the room before out of a sudden, there was an abrupt clatter and Nevan shrieked in her highest pitch – a scream of a banshee, sounding desperate and completely out of her mind.

The deep rumbling of the cello continued in the background, quick and choppy notes, interrupted by the bells and the clattering sounds of Kat's percussion. She simultaneously played deep chords in an organ-like voice, quick scales racing through the music every now and then.

Nevan's scream ended with a gurgling sound and she retreated to her signature alto:

"_I spend my last days in slavery_

_Clinging onto one final hope."_

Loud metallic bangs echoed through the room, Lucia playing deep notes to give the harsh sounds a base. Nevan pulled the microphone stand closer to her, gripping the attached microphone with both hands.

Nero stared at the stage, stunned by the force and power these girls had. Nevan's voice was able to reach amazing heights but it was mellow and deep at the same time, seeming like velvet. Lucia was rocking the electric cello – an instrument he's never seen before, to top it off – and Kat was hammering away on the keys. Their show was mind-blowing.

"_I feel your eyes on me,_

_I feel your hungry stare_

_You are the beast that corrupted me!"_

One of Nevan's hands slid to her chest, teasingly close to her deep cleavage but she brought it to her face, running it through her hair, sighing dramatically.

"_But yes, my darling,_

_I love you so very much."_

Her voice took a sweet turn at the word 'love', her face lighting up. Nevan smiled a little to herself before licking her lips and continuing:

"_So much that I want to crush your bones_

_And drink your blood!"_

Nero had half the mind to wonder how Nevan managed to gurgle out the last word but was too interested in her performance to care. She got louder again, more aggressive, more like the banshee she resembled so much. The music meanwhile got rougher as well, the frequency of the clattering increasing while the cello played fast notes on its highest range.

Nevan snarled out the next words before softly building up tension – an animal that was about to jump its prey:

"_I'd love to see you suffer,_

_To see you fall just like I did._

_I'd love to see you drown,_

_To see you buried beneath the waves..."_

A dramatic trill on the cello highlighted the final note before Nevan inhaled deeply for air, the next words resounding in her full alto:

"_I'm a gray ocean deep enough to bury your sorrow, _

_To forget your own name or face._

_Now drown in me,_

_Just like I did!"_

Nero could almost feel Nevan's desperation. Her voice was laced with pain, her face contorted in concentration and sadness. He wondered what the reason was or if she simply was a damn good actress.

"_You are my unnatural obsession,_

_Made me throw away_

_Everything I once possessed._

_You evil demon_

_Killed everything once pure in me!"_

Her voice broke towards the last line, skillfully and seamlessly blending from her alto into a high-pitched scream.

While Nero was absolutely amazed by the music, Dante stared at Nevan. He couldn't stop staring, his mind not grasping what had become of her. Amazing and awe-inspiring, yes – but so bitter and dark at the same time. Also, he had the feeling that it had something to do with their past... Seeing her like this felt like a slap to the face in either way.

Nevan meanwhile felt as if she was on top of the world, feeling high and light and terrible at the same time. Maybe she died and was going through Purgatory right now? Heaven doesn't feel like this, Heaven meant the pain she always felt would stop, right?

"_You sank your claws into me,_

_Your teeth pierced my flesh,_

_Your thorn corrupting my core!"_

Trish took that as her cue to join them, jumping on stage and following the sequence of notes Lucia was playing. The violin tore through the metallic clattering, perfectly in sync with the bells in the background. Lucia and Trish had a little battle on stage, seeming to chase each other with the notes, trying to force the other to submit.

Dante's eyes abruptly switched to Trish. He never realized how she looked like on stage, always too caught up in his own performance. But wow... She seemed so _happy_ and free, not like the responsible person he always saw in her. And suddenly, he felt a painful stab in his heart. _"It's your fault"_, a voice echoed in his head, making his gut twist painfully. His fault for being an ignorant idiot, for not caring about anyone than himself and for making everyone around him suffer. Vergil, Trish, Lady, Nevan... and that guy... Nero … as well.

Wait, that was _his_ voice echoing in his head! But why? Because Nero actually saw through him on first try, saw behind the tough guy front Dante always tried to hold up so desperately and because he got Dante to change, to stand up for the mistakes he made...

_I'm imagining things_, Dante thought or rather hoped, eyes still fixed on the stage. Trish swung around with the beat, now knocking out the violin solo. Her fingers raced on the neck of the violin, up and down before finally ending with a sharp gliding sound from a high note to the lowest, a choir of voices setting in immediately after.

Nevan was at the microphone again, her voice a raspy whisper:

"_And still, my darling,  
I adore you so much._

_Even with your hands around my neck_

_As you slowly strangle me!"_

She got louder at the end again and the music seemed to be exploding with her. Trish and Lucia gave their all on the violin and cello, the music getting more dramatic as Kat unleashed the orchestral samples. It felt as if the sound was washing over the audience in waves, burying them with their force – as if they were actually drowning.

"_I'd love to see you suffer,_

_To see you fall just like I did._

_I'd love to see you drown,_

_To see you buried beneath the waves."_

The last word of the verse ended with a vibrato, sounding passionate and sad at the same time. The music got a little faster, the song reaching its climax.

"_You are my unnatural obsession,_

_You made me throw away_

_Everything I once possessed._

_You evil demon_

_Killed everything once pure in me!"_

Nevan's voice faded away and the strings took over the melody, drawing it out until they reached the deepest range of the instrument, a single tap of a high note on the piano contrasting to the dark sounds, sounding like a distant shimmer of hope.

The audience was suddenly tinted in darkness then, screaming and yelling for more. The spotlight went back on after a few seconds and Nevan stepped to the microphone with a big smile on her pretty face. "Good evening, my lovelies", she said in her smoky voice, "It's so good to see you, my darlings. And so many of you, we actually filled the whole _Sunken Opera_."

The crowd cheered and applauded her and the band members all took a little bow. Then, Nevan raised her voice again: "As you may have noticed, we have a guest today." She gestured to Trish. "A band member of _Devil May Cry_. Let me introduce Trish to you."

Trish stepped up next to Nevan, securing the violin under her chin and playing a quick solo that had some people of the audience whistling and yelling in awe.

Nero watched the front singer attentively during the whole gig. Nevan was interesting to watch, knew how to set up a show that had the watchers breathless and excited. She simply was a great artist, knew exactly how to get the attention she wanted. And her voice was unique, flawlessly breaking through the instrumentation while still remaining mysterious and smoky.

Still, the lyrics of her music crept Nero out. The themes were dark, and Nevan talked about being in pain, about suffering, suicide, addictions and drowning. And all of that seemed to be centered around love. Nero stared at the banner of the band again. _Drown Like Ophelia_.

Ophelia, Ophelia … That name sounded familiar, poetic and tragic … Wasn't she a character in a play by Shakespeare? The potential wife of Hamlet, the prince of Denmark … Nero recalled having read Hamlet years ago in school, not remembering much but the basic plot outline. But wasn't Ophelia the one who drowned herself? And suddenly he realized Nevan was singing her life's story, singing about almost going mad because of love and rejection.

The band continued their gig, alternating between calm and mellow and aggressive and loud songs, but eventually they came to an end. Nevan chose a special song for the end of their tour, for her reunion with Dante.

She took the microphone off the stand and walked to the edge of the stage, taking a deep breath to steady herself. Her emotions almost overwhelmed her – it was always such an amazing feeling to be on stage, to have people shout your name and sing along to your music.

"My darlings, our evening has almost come to an end", she announced with a sad little smile and some people booed in disappointment, demanding more. Nevan nodded, making a calming gesture with her hand and when the audience was quiet, she added: "This is our last song for this evening. Thanks to everyone who came to see us, thanks to _La Maison de l'Obscurité_for contracting us and its staff for the amazing experience. Thanks to Trish of _Devil May Cry _for playing the violin for us tonight and –" The crowd had gotten louder with every word and Nevan gestured to them to be quiet again. "And of course, thanks to our fans! _You_ made this possible and we love you for that!"

The crowd started shouting again and Trish quickly waved goodbye, grabbing her instrument and moving to the backstage area. Her job was done for today.

The audience became silent again and Nevan suddenly got nervous. This was it. The song for Dante. The song that –

Kat started playing the intro – heavy and deep chords on the piano: E minor, A, G, B minor –

Dante's head shot up, staring at the stage in horror. This song... How could Nevan do that? Every single word, every damn _syllable_ was burned into his memory, every single chord, each note –

The sequence was repeated, now Lucia joining on the cello. Dante caught Nevan's eye, her gaze hard and unyielding. He mouthed a _'please don't'_ but it was already too late.

"_My girl, my girl, don't lie to me,_

_Tell me where did you sleep last night._

_In the pines, in the pines,_

_Where the sun don't ever shine,_

_I would shiver the whole night through."_

Nevan sang it in her deepest pitch, her voice sounding like dark velvet. The atmosphere quickly changed then as the same chords followed, now getting a little faster, more accentuated. How can four simple chords hurt so badly?

_A soft and fragile body beneath his own, a hand that reached out for him, pulling him in for a kiss. Supple, full lips pressing against his, contrasting to the sharp nails that left light scratches on his back... And Nirvana playing on the old beaten jukebox of Nevan's room. The mattress creaked quietly with every thrust, drowned out by their moans and sighs and the sound of the rain drumming against the window... _

Nevan's voice pitched, aiming for a higher range. Smooth, like satin, it flowed through the room, accompanied by ascending and descending scales on the piano.

"_My girl, my girl, where will you go,_

_I'm going where the cold wind blows..."_

Then, her voice dropped to a whisper again. Lucia followed the descent with low notes on the cello. Dante could feel his hairs standing on end.

"_Her husband, was a hard working man,_

_Just about a mile from here."_

There was a deep octave on the piano before the verse continued, Nevan's voice still dangerously low and raspy.

"_His head was found in a driving wheel,_

_But his body never was found."_

Dante closed his eyes, waiting for the impact. Images flickered before his eyes: _moans, getting louder and louder, yet drowned out by the music. A very girlish body with a well defined waist and round breasts that clung to him. A voice, full and rich sighing and groaning into his ear..._

And suddenly, the chorus hit him full force:

"_My girl, my girl, don't lie to me _

_Tell me where did you sleep last night!_

_In the pines, in the pines,_

_Where the sun don't ever shine _

_I would shiver the whole night through!" _

Nevan was screaming, not caring the damage she did to her voice as she forgot about technique. She needed to vent, needed to let out all the emotions she had been carrying around with her for so long.

"_My girl, my girl, where will you go,_

_I'm going where the cold wind blows. _

_In the pines, in the pines,_

_Where the sun don't ever shine,_

_I would shiver the whole night through..."_

The instrumentation went downwards, the chords piercing through Dante's heart.

_He had knocked on her window. It was way past midnight but Nevan hadn't gone to sleep yet, staring at him with wide eyes. Dante had been sitting on the tree next to Nevan's window, soaked to the bone from spending several hours in the rain. 'She cheated on me', he whispered as only explanation, not telling Nevan he had actually seen his girlfriend cheat on him with his best friend, not telling her how hurt he was. Nevan already knew and let him inside, saying he should take off his wet clothes._

Somewhere at the edge of her mind, Nevan realized that her voice was cracking and pitching between rough growls and harsh screams. It didn't matter, nothing mattered now.

"_My girl, my girl, don't lie to me,_

_Tell me where did you sleep last night."_

Nero noticed that Nevan seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"What's with her?", Kyrie also suddenly whispered next to him.

He shrugged in reply. "Sad because their tour is over?", he suggested but at the same he knew it must be something much deeper.

"_In the pines, in the pines,_

_Where the sun don't ever shine, _

_I would shiver the whole night through."_

Dante meanwhile still tried to hold the images in his head back but it was to no avail.

_They ended up in Nevan's bed together. Nevan said that he should warm up, asking him what exactly happened but Dante wouldn't answer. He simply pulled her closer to him, snuggling up to her warm body and wanting to forget everything that happened this day. _

_And Nevan was already taking the first steps to that, preparing a joint and igniting it. 'Here, it calms you down.'_

_'I shouldn't –'_

_'And why the hell not, Dante? We're about to graduate, to start our own lives, to maybe become rock stars. You want people to remember you, right?'_

_'Yes...'_

_'And I know you. You're gonna die young, just as me.' She took a drag, exhaling the smoke slowly. _

Nevan was looking into Dante's eyes. He could clearly see the tears running down her face, knew what she was thinking about. But why was she doing this to herself, to him?

Her voice sounded tired, as if she couldn't take anymore, the music growing heavier.

"_My girl, my girl, where will you go _

_I'm going where the cold wind blows."_

She exhaled shakily, trying her hardest to keep going and to not break down. Nevan hadn't imagined it would still hurt this badly even though more than two years had passed …

_Nobody of them could tell anymore how or when or why it happened but suddenly they were kissing, and Nevan thought a dream had come true; ignoring the fact that she was Dante's comfort girl, ignoring the fact that this would have serious consequences. Nothing mattered but this singular moment. And when she felt his hands on her body, tightly gripping her waist, when she felt his lips on hers, his body perfectly molded into hers, she pretended he loved her just as much as she loved him, knowing somewhere in the back of her mind that it wasn't true. _

The last three lines followed, Nevan's voice getting raspy and almost creaky.

"_In the pines, in the pines _

_Where the sun don't ever shine..."_

She took a deep breath, screaming the last line out on the top of her lungs, drawing each word out. "_I would shiver the whole night... through."_

The outro followed the dramatic end: light notes on the piano, sounding like rain droplets after a storm. The cello joined with sweet, rich sounds on its highest range before a sudden deep octave on the piano ended the song.

The audience broke into applause and the band members took a bow, waving goodbye and walking backstage where Nevan instantly burst into tears.

Kat looked completely shocked but Lucia remained composed, taking Nevan into a tight hug and letting her cry on her shoulder.

_What's going on?_, Kat mouthed but Lucia gestured to her to keep quiet and brought Nevan back to their dressing room, Kat following close by and locking the door behind them.

"It's okay, Nev. It's over now", she soothed, stroking Nevan's hair who simply continued to sob.

"You were right", Nevan whimpered, "It was a bad idea. Seeing him again. A very bad idea."

"Stop being so hard on yourself", Lucia said, tightening her hold around Nevan.

None of them imagined their tour to end like this, especially not Kat who still had no idea what even happened. She left the dressing room after some more minutes, deciding to return later when Nevan had composed herself.

Nevan clutched Lucia's shirt even harder as she cried, trying to get her rapid breathing under control. It hurt. Her heart was hurting so bad as if it'd break in two in the next moment, the pain the same as it had been two years ago. Maybe even worse.

Breaking hearts is so easy and anyone is capable of doing it. Like switching off a light, blowing out a candle, leaving nothing but darkness behind. And don't people say that in life, you always treat people nicely until someone fucks you over, hurts you so deeply that the damage can never be mended? In the end, it doesn't matter if they even apologize. The things that happened changed you as a person, influenced your life. An apology doesn't change anything.

Nevan didn't know if she could ever forgive Dante for what he did. The only thing she knew was that she couldn't hate him – yes, he used her as his comfort girl but he's been cheated on. Life also has left its mark on him.

_You're gonna die young, just as me. _

She cried even harder when she remembered that moment. What a stupid thing to say. Nevan had been so clueless back then, not knowing how to value life but after everything she's been through with her band, she couldn't help but feel guilty for feeling suicidal, for being so ungrateful for the things life had given her. And no matter how often she sang about dying, living was the the only thing she truly wanted.

"Feeling a little better?", Lucia asked quietly.

Nevan nodded slightly. "I think moving on will be easier now." She swallowed hard. "You were right. He never loved me."

"You deserve better than him, Nev."

Nevan sobbed in response. "Thank you for constantly putting up with this", she said then, returning the embrace, glad that Lucia never let her down. As much as Dante ruined their friendship, she found a new one with Lucia, one that could withstand anything.

Dante meanwhile had trouble to keep it together himself. _Why the hell did she do that?_ After that incident, they swore to keep going as if it never happened – but of course it didn't work. Nevan wanted more and Dante wasn't ready for that, just didn't feel the same as her even though he deeply cared for her as a friend and always would. He breathed in deeply and shakily, remembering the thing that happened in that venue last week with that girl Kyrie – no. Enough.

Dante sighed before slowly making his way back to their tour bus. Tonight had been an emotional overkill. He needed some time for himself, needed to stomach what happened and what he had seen. But falling asleep was hard with that much stuff on his mind and so Dante continued to stare at the ceiling of his small bed in the tour bus, pretending to sleep when the others entered half an hour later.

Nero also thought a lot about this evening before going to sleep. He thought about Nevan's lyrics, her performance, her appearance … Why did she cry so badly at their last song?

But the more Nero thought about the concert, the more other questions started haunting his mind. Why had Dante been there? Okay, Trish had played the violin for _Drown Like Ophelia_ (and she had done a damn good job) so it made sense that the other band members of _Devil May Cry_ had been there as well.

Nero turned around strangely aggravated. There was just something about Dante that made his blood boil. Maybe the fact that Dante actually managed to get it on with Kyrie – something he himself has worked on for several years by now. But this was not only about Kyrie and it unnerved Nero that he couldn't put a finger on it.


	4. Sinners And Saints

**Galaxies**

* * *

**Disclaimer: **Devil May Cry and its characters = © Capcom. I don't make any profit from this story.  
Unless otherwise stated, the lyrics that appear in this story are written by me, specifically for this fic and are story-relevant.

**Main pairings: **Vergil x Lady, implied Nero x Kyrie, implied Dante x Trish, implied Dante x Nevan, eventual Dante x Nero

**Warnings in general:** Contains uncomfortable topics like anorexia and bulimia, abuse, domestic violence, depression, self harm, drug abuse and sex.

**Warnings for this chapter:** language, self harm, domestic violence, drug abuse. Implied Nero x Kyrie and Nero x OC.

_The lyrics of "Painting the Roses Red" belong to Disney._

**A/N: **This chapter is really, _really_ long, I'm sorry. Yes, there will be Dante x Nero soon. As in … really soon.  
Also, to that guest review: I think you kinda missed the point of Nevan's show. She got her heart broken by her best friend and even though she didn't stop Dante when it happened, she has every damn right to be pissed at him and to want a little payback, don't you think?

* * *

Track #4: Sinners And Saints

"So, what would you like to do when you're done with school?"

_I have no idea at all._ Nero fidgeted in his seat. "I honestly don't really know … yet."

"Didn't apply to any colleges yet?"

"No, sir." Nero flinched.

The career counselor raised a brow. It didn't surprise him that Nero didn't have any plans for his future yet – it was a common thing nowadays considering many teens were under a lot of pressure from their parents and had too high expectations for themselves. There were too many things to choose from when it came to studying and not enough time to try and find out what fitted best for them.

"Well, the only thing I can suggest to you is an internship, Mr. Angelo", the counselor said. "Apply to different companies or establishments. Hands-on trainings are the best method for finding out what you want to do for the rest of your life."

Nero nodded, quickly grabbing his bag, practically fleeing. "Okay, got it. Internships. Thanks a lot."

He got out of the counselor's office, making his way back to class. The teacher acknowledged his return with a short nod, sending off the next student.

Nero went to his seat in the last row, suddenly feeling strangely resigned. He had no clue what to do once he graduated and slowly but surely time was running out. His school friends already had applied to colleges, made plans for moving out of the state or country, for traveling, for working and living abroad, hell – even for marriage. His head began to swim just thinking about it.

He and Kyrie avoided talking about career choices. Now that he thought about it – they didn't seem to talk as much as they used to. They spent a lot of time together, yes but …life goes on, people change. It was quite sad actually.

Nero tiredly rubbed his temple, his head already starting to hurt. He could barely believe that less than a year ago, life had been so much easier for both of them. Now, they had to grow up out of a sudden, neither of them knowing how.

It made Nero want to bang his head on the desk – why was he here anyway? School was law, he wasn't here out of choice, he didn't ask to be judged by incompetent adults who constantly tried to convince him that math or analyzing literature were bare necessities in life. How about a plan on how to finance college? Facts about how to pay taxes or how to take a loan, to buy a house, to build an organization or how to raise money? Nobody thought it'd be necessary to tell them how to keep friendships or relationships alive, to talk someone out of suicide, how to love a child, how to figure out what was important to _him_ in _his_ life.

No, algebra and grammar were the most important things on the timetable and everything school taught him was that the education system sucks and drains him of all his joy and fun in life.

Nero sighed quietly, looking outside of the window, letting his mind drift away from the subject. Three days to spring break, and five days until he would go to a festival with Kyrie and some friends. Just forgetting about school and exams and all that crap for a short while. For two full days, they'd be surrounded by music – and most likely alcohol and drugs. But Nero already had learned to restrain himself thanks to Kyrie.

_Kyrie_ … Maybe, just _maybe_ Nero could finally take things further with her. His stomach churned at that thought and Nero wasn't sure whether it was in anticipation or because of something else. Somehow he already knew that he was going to be the watchdog on that weekend, looking out for Kyrie before –

Nero forced himself to not think of the negative things that could happen. The festival was meant to be fun and he wanted to keep it that way.

He sighed once more, still staring into the distance, noticing that heavy clouds were gathering on the horizon. It was about to rain.

Maybe he should focus on getting to know other girls.

* * *

"Hey Dante, could you stop for a moment?", Trish asked through the microphone of the booth Dante was currently recording vocals in.

He took off the headphones, seeming slightly confused. "Something wrong?"

"No, I just thought... could you sing that passage clean?"

He blinked. "Yeah, I could but … _why_?"

"Just try it, okay? We'll compare it and look what sounds better with the instrumentation."

"Fine." He put the headphones back on, singing the same verse in his clean voice. Trish listened attentively, thinking that Dante should sing like this more often. He always says that he liked screaming more than clean singing – it was more fun and sounded more powerful in his opinion.

Dante finished the passage, waiting for Trish to say something. "So?"

"It's better clean."

He frowned. "I don't think so."

"Trust me."

His frown deepened. _Trust me_, she said. But how could he ever trust her again after the thing he witnessed two days ago at The Sunken Opera? The memory alone made Dante shiver. He didn't know what to make out of it, didn't know what to think or to say and he had to talk about it with someone before he went crazy. Usually, he'd talk to Trish about that but well... obviously, that wasn't going to work this time. He'd never ask Vergil about things like these and especially avoided mentioning it towards Lady – hell knows what she'd say to both Trish and Dante.

"Hello? Earth to Dante?"

"Wha?"

"Get out of there, we're done for today." Trish smiled at him from the other side of the booth, as did the producer.

Dante went outside, feeling strangely numb all of a sudden. His legs carried him to the rest room of the building where he stared at his reflection in the mirror for a full minute.

_Maybe I'm getting sick_, he thought once more as he realized how pale he was. First the thing with Kyrie, then Nevan and now Trish … _Girls are only trouble._

Dante stepped to the urinal, unzipping his pants. But something felt … strange. He looked down, letting out a scream of horror.

That didn't go unnoticed by Trish who just passed the corridor. She tapped her knuckles against the door. "Dante, you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine!", he yelled back, his voice pitching in panic, "Only that I got a fucking rash from … from someone."

Dante sank to his knees in shame. So karma did finally find him after he had successfully avoided it for so long. It seemed like that gig in Fortuna had turned his life around. Kinda ironic.

Trish meanwhile was at a loss of words, unsure of what she could say in a situation like this. "Maybe you should go to the doctor, Dante", she suggested, "Can't leave that untreated."

Dante breathed heavily, feeling disgusted with himself. He never thought things through, always acted on impulse and somehow that system had always worked. He never thought about consequences in any situation, never weighed his options, always just went for it. And now it seemed as if he had lived in a card house that had fallen apart.

He stiffened when he noticed that a tear had fallen from his eye, scrambling up to his feet and quickly washing his face, trembling as he looked at his reflection again. How much younger he suddenly looked. And so scared, all confidence crumpled away.

"Dante, I'm coming in", he heard Trish say, feeling panic welling up inside him.

"Stay out!", he screamed.

"But –"

"STAY THE FUCK OUT!"

Trish froze, her hand already reaching out to open the door. Dante usually wants her help, always asks her for advice first. Hearing him scream at her like that made her feel cold. Something was on his mind ever since they played in Fortuna about two weeks ago and he didn't want to tell her about it, didn't seem to want to deal with it himself.

But Dante had to pull himself together quickly. They will play at a festival soon, being the support band of _Six Rounds For A Blue Rose_, an honor for a practically unknown band like them. An opportunity they should not screw up under any circumstances.

"I'll be waiting by the bus", Trish told him, leaving the building. Maybe all of them had taken too much upon themselves.

That's what Dante was thinking now as well, having the sudden urge to just give up and see what else life had to offer him. He chuckled darkly at that thought. There's not much life has to give to him. The only things he was good at was making music and fucking.

His fingernails dug deep into his palms as he felt frustration and anger bubbling up inside him. Why was life so easy for other people? Take Nero as an example – Nero and his almost-girlfriend Kyrie whose parents supported him and who had a plan of what he would do with his life (at least that's what Dante thought) and not a fucked-up and chaotic life on the road from day to day. Was living your dream really worth to feel like this from time to time? Wasn't Dante missing out on being normal?

At the same time, Dante knew he was being selfish and ignorant. Many people wanted exactly what he had and yet, all he could think right now was that he wanted to turn back time or go back home, hiding away from the rest of the world. He felt foolish to crave for comfort, to just have one single person that understood and didn't question him. And no matter how close him and Trish were, she wasn't the person he wanted. Trish was just too much like a motherly figure to him, was the one who always watched over him and kept him from doing too extreme things. But Dante couldn't rely on her forever – he'd never grow up this way and it was unfair to Trish as well.

Helplessness threatened to drown him. The last time he felt this way was when him and Vergil had studied for finals. Vergil had taken so much on himself to help Dante but he never noticed that Dante was feeling terrible during that time. Back then, the thing with Nevan happened, school was overwhelming him and he had no idea if they could really make their living as musicians. It didn't help that Vergil always called him lazy and thought Dante wouldn't appreciate his help while he actually meant the opposite. All Dante wanted to do was scream at his brother to help him getting through that phase. He had fallen into a strange numbness that didn't let him concentrate on anything, thought he'd fail every single course and end up somewhere on the street. A pretty grim outlook on life for being so young.

Dante kept his mind by playing the guitar everyday, learning to master and control his voice to let out his emotions, _screamed_ as loud as he could so no one will overhear him.

He blinked several times. He had worked so hard for his band, so there was no giving up now, not ever. Despite being lazy, Dante was a fighter – and he'd make sure to sure to show life that he wouldn't be defeated easily.

* * *

_Suddenly she's like a different person. _

Nero watched Kyrie as she danced around in her room, throwing random pieces of clothing into a traveling bag. Yesterday had been their last day of school, tomorrow they'd be on their way to Redvale where the festival was held.

Nero was currently looking at their tickets. _Lucifer's Hellpit: The Place Where Angels Fall! – Redvale – Bands: Six Bullets For A Blue Rose, Rebellion's Edge, Flames of Ifrit, Spirit of the Lightning, The Icy Gates of The Guardian_, a lot of bands Nero never heard of before and – _Devil May Cry_.

_Are you fucking serious_, Nero mouthed, thinking he was becoming paranoid. This band and _Dante_ seemed to be following him everywhere.

Kyrie broke his train of thoughts as she started to hum a tune, the shirt she had thrown missing its target and hitting Nero in the face.

They started laughing and Nero set the shirt aside, pulling Kyrie closer to him to sit in his lap. She lost her balance, making them both fall onto the mattress, her on top of Nero. He laughed even harder, shaking the whole bed.

Kyrie propped herself up on her elbows, simply regarding Nero as he laid underneath her. He smiled up at her once he caught his breath, making her realize how good-looking he actually was. Well, it's not like she didn't notice it before. And still – shouldn't girls (and maybe even guys?) throw themselves at Nero?

His dark blue eyes looked up at her, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheeks. Kyrie was almost jealous of Nero's ridiculously long lashes … or his high cheekbones or his full, almost feminine lips.

As if on cue, Nero's smile blended into a wide grin and he raised a brow. "Why are you staring at me?"

Kyrie blinked before giggling lightly. "Just thinking that you'd make a great toothpaste model."

He rolled his eyes in response and she got off him, accidentally elbowing him in the stomach. Nero coughed as the hard appendage hit him.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!", she quickly apologized, smoothing her palm over his stomach. "Does it hurt badly?"

Nero almost started laughing again at her panic. "I'm fine, you worry too much."

Kyrie frowned lightly, still touching Nero's stomach, her fingers tracing the outlines of his muscles. She knew that Nero worked out quite a lot and that was showing: his stomach was rock hard. "Are those abs I'm feeling?"

Nero grinned even wider in response. "Yup. The result of fencing and kickboxing."

"Damn, I should work out too." She didn't cease to trace his muscles, having the strange urge to pull his shirt up and –

This was so wrong. Nero was a taboo. They had been friends for all their lives, they were so close that he was more like an older brother rather than a lover for Kyrie. Besides, he deserved someone better than her. Someone that doesn't constantly put him through so much shit like she was doing all the time.

Nero's thoughts meanwhile were scattered and he had trouble to concentrate on the current situation. He halfheartedly wished that Kyrie would stop touching him so he could make his mind up about what was happening.

He wanted this. He had wanted this for so, so long and now that she was finally touching him or getting interested in him, it didn't feel like he had always dreamed. Nero wanted to scream in rage. Why didn't this happen sooner?

He even talked with his few friends about it – well, didn't really talk about his relationship with Kyrie but the other boys had their own ideas of what was going on between them.

"Nero, just go for it", Jake said last afternoon when they met up to play video games. "You'll never get another opportunity like that so soon. Get a move on or somebody else will."

His glasses had reflected in the harsh artificial light of the TV in his room, his eyes not visible and his expression unreadable. But Jake's advice was meant well – he always meant everything well, being a warm and kind person by nature. The problem was that it didn't really help Nero.

Jake heard about the rumors surrounding Kyrie – hell, everybody heard them – and while he kept his true opinion about Kyrie to himself, he encouraged Nero to just get on with it. He knew her well, knew that she was a good girl and that she needed help. And Nero seemed to be the only one who was able to deal with her.

He said it in private to Nero. The other guys didn't need to know about it. Many of them believed the rumors going on, called Kyrie a slut and Nero blind and dumb for always defending her.

But he never stopped caring about her and Jake was in awe about that. Kyrie was very important to Nero, that much was clear.

They talked until midnight, both realizing that after going to school together for about four years they became good friends even though they had never really spent much time together outside of it. Nero thought Jake would be the only one of his school friends that he will keep in touch with once they graduated. The other boys were okay as well but he wouldn't necessary miss them if he didn't see them again.

_Get a move on or somebody else will_. That already happened. Nero choked back the growl coming from his throat as he thought about Dante who managed to get exactly what Nero wanted from Kyrie himself.

Did he really want it though? What the hell did he even want?

_I'm seriously fucked up in the head._

"I'm glad you're staying tonight", Kyrie said, breaking his line of thought, "When was the last time we had a sleepover?"

Nero made a face. "Don't call it sleepover, that sounds so girly."

Kyrie just laughed at Nero's disgruntled look, retreating to throwing clothes into her bag, now purposefully trying to aim at Nero over her head. Much to her displeasure, he managed to dodge every item she threw at him.

The afternoon passed quickly as both of them just talked, listened to music and did nothing exciting in particular. Just like the old lazy days some years ago when the world wasn't that gray and life had been so much easier.

* * *

Vergil closed the luggage compartment door of their bus, leaning against it. They'd be driving home now before making their way to Redvale to the festival. Both him and Dante were nervous about going back to their parents. They were worried about their reactions and didn't want to start a fight with them but already knew it would happen.

Lady was going to sleep at their house as well. Vergil had convinced her to not go back to her old apartment, saying they were on the road all the time anyways and that she might as well take a room in their mansion. She agreed rather reluctantly, not wanting to be a burden to anyone but Eva was thrilled once she heard that Lady would live with them whenever the band was in town.

Vergil thought his mother had some kind of helper syndrome when it came to Lady. And as much as Lady appreciated Eva's help, she hated being pitied and the look Eva always regarded her with. As if she was a lost puppy she saved from being drowned.

Though Lady couldn't deny that it was nice living with the Spardas. She had a spacious room (even though she told Eva several times that it was way too big for her and that she wasn't going to live with them for long) with wide windows that were framed with white curtains. Every time she looked outside, she got a nice view of the garden and the forest in the distance. Still, the room had Eva's handwriting all over it – the decorations were held in pastel colors, mostly pink and purple. It reminded Lady of a doll house: the pillows on her bed had ruffles on them, the comforter a few pink bows, the whole furniture was white and innocent. It was slightly cheesy and Lady believed that it could be one of Eva's creative outlets. Or maybe she always wished for a daughter? And then again, maybe Lady was taking it a little too far with her theories.

The twins' rooms were nearby, just down the corridor. Lady still couldn't believe how they could get used to their small tour bus beds when they had a whole wing for themselves. Maybe it was the boys' stubbornness that kept them sane.

As Vergil entered the bus again to head home, he noticed Dante laying on his bed, earphones plugged in and staring outside. Many crumpled balls of paper were littered all over the floor and his bed – fruitless efforts of writing lyrics.

They had two new songs for the festival – the song Trish had written and another one Vergil and Lady had been working on. Vergil's personal song was progressing surprisingly slow though. He had a faint idea of what he wanted to write about but didn't know how to express himself. Writing about society surely was easier.

Vergil climbed into the driver's seat, sighing quietly. It would be a long drive … His stomach churned unpleasantly. He could already hear his father asking him if he was sure about the band. He always tried to talk Vergil out of it, pointing out that he – an honor student – shouldn't waste his time like this with a job that meant barely any income.

Vergil frowned. He never heard his parents talk to Dante about his future, never seen them give any advice to him … They hadn't given up on him, had they?

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He cast a glance towards his brother who had closed his eyes now, slowly drifting to sleep while listening to music (that was so loud that Vergil could hear the shrieking sounds of the lead guitar).

Vergil knew their relationship was complicated because they always saw each other as concurrence and always tried their hardest to ace out each other. To him, it was a natural instinct. They looked the same so it only made sense that they'd show their claws, trying to show the world that each of them was an individual who wanted to achieve something in life.

But Dante stood no chance when it came to the things that seemed to matter to their parents. Good grades, awards, school here, school there. It was actually ridiculous to reduce your child to something as stupid as the grades they bring home.

Vergil thought harder about it. Their parents had always encouraged them to make music when they were younger, only changing their mind once the twins wanted to make music for a living. They ignored the fact that they worked their asses off, taking several small jobs at once to be able to buy the bus (when Vergil made the band's finance plan he realized buying the bus would be cheaper than constantly renting one) or to print their t-shirts and merchandise or publish their first self-recorded EP. Now, they also had to worry about photo shootings for their album and hell, they even scheduled an interview right after their performance at the Lucifer's Hellpit festival.

There was no single word of approval from either of their parents, not even from their mom who used to encourage her sons' creativity. Vergil didn't understand what was going on or why being a musician was seen as bad by his parents. He did just what he always wanted in his life, and so did Dante and yet, it wasn't enough.

Also, Vergil felt guilty. He shouldn't worry so much about his "insignificance" on stage and not begrudge Dante for wanting attention. Dante never got it at home and craving attention was only human.

Lady climbed into the bus last and Vergil closed the door, forcing himself to focus on driving now.

* * *

Several hours later, the twins and Lady were on their way to the mansion. They dropped off Trish earlier who went back to her own apartment. She refused to move into the mansion, saying she needed some time for alone every now and then.

They accepted it. Well, all of them besides Dante who always tried to persuade Trish to move in with them as well. She was at their place most of the time anyway so what was her problem?

Vergil raised a brow when he realized that Dante had been really quiet the whole drive. He even slept through most of it. How unusual for his little brother to act like this.

But Vergil also didn't know that Dante went to the doctor earlier, getting tested for STDs, taking a blood test, getting a shot against infections and a lotion that he had to apply to make the rash go away. Dante thought he'd die from embarrassment. At least he felt slightly better now that he got medical treatment – physically anyway. His ego and pride had taken a lot of damage in the last few days and if Dante was honest with himself he just wanted a break. Some time to actually cope with the things that happened.

But no, there was no time for that. They had exactly one day before they had to drive to Redvale for their show at the_ Lucifer's Hellpit Festival_. And this day would be spent with preparing for the gig. And band practice. Maybe Dante shouldn't have agreed to Vergil's schedule … But then again, he could always sleep when he was dead, right?

Lady meanwhile felt her stomach churn. As much as she loved the Sparda mansion, she also hated being there. She owed Vergil and Dante something for letting her stay with them, didn't want them to think she's using them to her advantage. The whole Sparda family had been so kind to her and she didn't know how to pay them back ever. But the guilt she felt got to her. Lady rubbed her eyes, tearing her gaze away from the road to stare at the notebook in her hand. A blank page. Not a single word was written on it and Lady thought the little book in her hands was mocking her. She shifted on her bed, laying down so that the flashlight shone at the page, careful to stay on her left side so the others wouldn't be disturbed by the light.

Dante was asleep, the music of his mp3 player still resounding through the bus. Bullet drums, harsh guitars. How the hell was he able to sleep through that? Lady's gaze wandered to Vergil who was sitting on the driver's seat, only the top of his head visible to her. His bright platinum hair was shining in the darkness, slightly illuminated by the moonlight that fell through the windshield glass.

Vergil and Dante were the same, yet completely different. Two sides of a coin. Blue and red – ice and fire, calmness and passion, innocence and danger.

Lady blinked rapidly. What the hell was that about? She shook her head, switching off the flashlight. Something told her she wouldn't go far with songwriting this night anyway. She got comfy on the small bed, grabbing a blanket to pull it almost over her head. The pads of her fingers absentmindedly traced the scars on her upper thighs, flinching when she felt the scarred tissue. She was marked for life and there was barely a patch of skin left that wasn't destroyed by her blades. Her hand wandered to her wrist, to her newest wound. The last cut was about four months ago. A dull razor blade, taken from a pencil sharpener. The wounds got infected, burning terribly under the gauze she used to cover it up.

The other band members noticed it. They always did but none of them asked questions. Lady was thankful for that even though it also made her thoughtful. Did they even care? They cared enough to leave her some privacy but none of them ever said anything against the cutting, no one ever spoke up …

Lady swallowed thickly as her fingers ran over a particularly deep scar on her wrist. The cut hadn't been deep enough to actually kill her but the healed wound still looked terrific. Memories flooded to her mind at the touch, seeming to drown her, but Lady quickly pushed them back to the depths of her mind.

Her hand wandered to her face, tracing the scar on the bridge of her nose.

_The beer bottle had been shattered when he hit her, the wound bleeding badly. Lady had crawled away as fast as she could, locking herself in the bathroom. Her father banged at the bathroom door, demanding she'd let him in. _

Breathing was suddenly much harder. Lady tightly gripped the small notebook, holding it to her chest. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't you fucking cry._

_He was throwing curses at her, his fist colliding with the wood of the door. "Mary, you worthless piece of shit! Open the goddamn door so I can –"_

_Lady was afraid he'd break the door down. She was afraid he'd come in and kill her. She honestly thought she was going to die. _

_It happened while she sat in the bathtub, shaking like a leaf. The blade was quickly fetched. Crimson splattered over the blue and yellowish bruises. Just a little physical pain to drown out the voice of her father. Just one more cut – and another one. And another. And another._

_It quickly got out of control. Lady passed out, unsure whether it was from anxiety, exhaustion or loss of blood, but when she woke up it was day again. She cautiously peeked into the corridor. Her father wasn't there, most likely having gone to work. _

_Lady changed, then walked back to the bathroom to dress her wounds. Great, people would ask questions again. She can always hide the cuts on her wrists and thighs but covering up the new scratch on the bridge of her nose would be tough. _

_Only two more weeks to go, she told herself. Then, she'd be eighteen and could move out._

_Vergil was the first one that noticed it. "What has he done to you?", he had asked Lady, a trace of anger in his voice. Lady avoided talking about what was going on at home, not wanting others to know how bad it was._

"_The usual. My father got drunk, then angry. I'm just glad mom wasn't at home."_

_Her father would usually take his violence out on Kalina Ann, Lady's mother. He once even managed to break her arm during one of his rage attacks. And yet, she refused to leave him. Lady never understood why until she got older. Her mother was scared. Scared she wouldn't survive an encounter with him and afraid of what would happen to Lady once she left. Of course, she'd gladly take Lady with her the judicial terms made it hard. _

_Vergil had snapped Lady out of her thoughts when he took her hand in his. He already suggested taking legal action against the violence but Lady refused, afraid that it could make things even worse. _

_This time though, Vergil just held her hand. "Lady, I want to help. Tell me if you need me."_

_It was rare that Vergil showed any sign of kindness but Lady was glad that it happened every now and then. It made Vergil more … human._

Lady rubbed her eyes once more, the memories slowly falling away. This was a bad time to get distracted. She could deal with her emotions after the festival. Maybe she could even use them to finally get that song done.

Her thoughts drifted back to Vergil. She knew that Dante and Trish cared for her and so did she for them but it was something else with the eldest Sparda twin. Vergil wanted to keep Lady safe, wanted to help her in any way possible but it was nothing like Eva's helper complex. There was no pity in Vergil's eyes whenever he looked at Lady – it was actually quite the opposite. Wait … was it really admiration? Or was Lady imagining things?

Why would it be admiration and what could Vergil possibly want from someone like her? Someone who's marked from tip to toe?

As much as she was proud of them, Lady hated her scars. She hated people that thought romanticizing self harm was a good thing to do. Yeah sure, she's a warrior that fought for her life. But there are enough people that didn't need to hurt themselves to cope with their emotional pain, so where did that leave her?

Lady closed her eyes. Enough for a day. She had to relax as much as she could now – the festival would bring a lot of stress even though she was already looking forward to it.

To Lady, being on stage was both exciting and terrifying. Thousands of people would be at the Hellpit festival, all of them staring at her, all of them _expecting_ something from their band.

The bus came to a halt, Vergil cutting off the engine. Lady smiled. _We'll show them._

They went into the big villa, Eva greeting them warmly, having prepared a small buffet for them. It was a little over the top, just as always.

All of them were surprised when Dante excused himself, going straight to sleep but that didn't stop Lady and Vergil from stuffing their stomachs.

Eva was concerned about her youngest son though. "Vergil, what's wrong with Dante? He didn't even _glance_ at the pizza." She stared at said pizza, closing the carton thoughtfully. "I even bought his favorite. What happened on the road?"

Vergil choked on his sandwich at the sudden question. "N-nothing." Something told him he should keep it a secret that Dante managed to get arrested in Fortuna.

"He saw Nevan again", Lady said, hoping this explanation would somehow suffice.

Eva put a hand to her chest. "So he's lovesick again, my poor baby."

Vergil once more choked on his food at her overly dramatic exclamation, deciding he's had enough for today. He was pretty sure whatever was going on with his brother wasn't about Nevan or any lovesickness whatsoever. Probably managed to get an STD or someth– The realization hit Vergil so suddenly that it made him feel sick.

"I'm going to bed as well", he mumbled, "Thanks, mom."

Eva smiled at him and Lady shoved the rest of her food into her mouth as fast as she could, not wanting to be alone with Eva, before following Vergil upstairs.

"What's going on?", she asked him once they were in the twins' wing of the house. "Afraid they find out about the thing in Fortuna?"

"They won't", Vergil replied, sighing quietly. "I have a theory about the way Dante is acting."

Lady raised a brow in question.

Vergil swallowed, not sure how to put it in words or whether he should share his thoughts with her at all. "Maybe Dante caught something from his one night stands."

Lady's eyes widened. "That would indeed explain why he was so quiet today."

They had arrived at Lady's room by now and her hand was already on the doorknob.

"It's just a theory", Vergil reminded her, looking down nervously. "Do you … do you think I should talk to him?"

"Maybe." Lady said, "Dante's been acting kinda strange since Fortuna. It _could_ help but what do you even plan on saying to him?"

Vergil shrugged helplessly. "What am I even supposed to say?"

Lady smiled a little, gently touching Vergil's shoulder. "Just ask him if he wants to talk. Maybe will tell you on his own." She let go of him, opening the door to her room. "Good night."

"Good night", Vergil mumbled back, staring at the closed door for several seconds before abruptly turning away and walking to his room. He switched on the light, finding it exactly how he left it. A spacious room with a comfortable double bed, a royal blue comforter neatly stretched over it on one side; a wall of books that were placed on elegant shelves on the other. If there's one thing Vergil was proud of, then it was his collection of books. He owned all kinds of them – novels, classics, fiction and non-fiction, autobiographies; books about history, about politics, myths, science and poetry – about basically everything Vergil found remotely interesting.

There was a drum standing on the ground next to the wall of books. It was a djembe – an African, goblet-shaped drum. The wood was of a rich reddish brown and there were patterns carved into its foot. It was the only instrument Vergil kept in his room, his drum set usually stood in their garage where the band practiced.

Vergil stretched as he looked around in his room, hearing his joints pop back into place. The wallpaper was simple and light blue with no patterns whatsoever. Vergil liked it this way – plain and simple. The furniture in his room was kept plain as well, the wood dark brown slightly shimmering in the warm light coming from the lamp on his nightstand.

The only thing decorating the walls was a katana placed on a holder. Vergil learned how to fight with a sword but had to quit around finals because he had no time for training due to his school work.

He sighed, deciding not to dwell on it and quickly undressed, slipping into his bed and grabbing the book he left on his nightstand. He put on his glasses, examining the book he picked up. _The Divine Comedy._

Vergil was not really in the mood about reading a story where the two protagonists had the same names as him and his brother. Still, he weighed the book in his hand, noticing how old and worn out it looked. Obviously, it had been read many times … The book used to belong to his mother. Eva told Vergil it was one of her favorites when she gave it to him. He frowned at the front cover. A simple theory about Heaven and Hell, written down by an Italian author in the 12th century. A story about sin and sacrifice, a tale just as old as mankind itself …

Vergil set it aside in the next moment, switching off the light. Maybe he really should just go to sleep right now.

Dante meanwhile had trouble sleeping, rolling around in his bed. He may be physically exhausted but his mind was reeling. Again, he turned to the side, staring at the wall of his room.

When Dante turned sixteen, he decided to redecorate the whole room, painting the walls a bright crimson just to cover them up again with large band posters and pictures of half-naked pin-up models. He had the strange urge to rip all of the posters down, the sinking feeling in his stomach getting even worse.

Meeting Nevan again had been a bad idea. They had avoided any contact ever since they slept with each other, not being able to even stand the other's presence or to be in the same room. Thinking back, Dante came to the conclusion they should have fought. It would've made things easier and they could just hate each other but where were they now? Their friendship had been destroyed and the damage was irreparable.

It didn't help that Dante had been Nevan's first. He had taken something from her he could never give back and knew he'd feel guilty for it forever. Dante didn't like remembering that night, hated himself for using his friend like this and for ruining one of the best friendships he's ever had in life. He also probably deserved that … _thing_ Nevan did at the concert in Fortuna. Her reminder of what he had done to her, how terribly he had hurt her.

Dante exhaled shakily, hugging his pillow as he curled up on the mattress. It only showed that he could trust no one, let alone himself. But he was sick of it. After the incident with his ex-girlfriend who cheated on him with his former best friend (he refused to call them by their names, for him these people didn't exist anymore), Dante isolated himself, slowly but surely also losing the rest of his friends. The only ones who were left were Trish and Lady – the only constant people in his life.

Trish … oh hell, Dante was still traumatized by what he had witnessed. At the same time, a little voice in his head said he was being a hypocrite. Trish had done nothing bad, after all.

Dante refused to think about that as well and got up from his bed, walking up to the wall where he kept his instruments. The holders were mounted to the wall, one of them empty since Dante always took the purple Flying V with him but on the one next to it, a shiny cherry red acoustic guitar hung.

Dante took it off its holder, sitting on the edge of his bed as he played some notes. He quickly found a melody, playing chords instead of single notes, steadily getting louder. To him, playing his acoustic guitar suddenly felt so strange when he had grown used to his electric one, to its distortion and artificial, slightly harsh sound.

The sounds his acoustic guitar gave off were so much softer and cleaner. Less manipulative through amps, every single mistake could be heard.

Dante played gentler now, taking in the rich notes that resounded through the room. This was different from the usual ways he used to vent his emotions – he'd usually scream to let it out but he couldn't do that around 1 AM.

The longer Dante played, the more he forgot about the world around him, becoming much more relaxed. There wasn't much in this world that had a calming effect on him and he savored it for as long as it lasted.

When he set the guitar aside half an hour later, he gently brushed over the wood, tracing the scratches on the old and slightly worn-out instrument. He got the guitar from his parents about fourteen years ago and it clearly went through a lot. Dante smiled fondly at the memories as he hung back into place, climbing into his bed again.

His gaze wandered to the pin board close to his bed. Dante had pinned tickets onto it from each concert he ever went to. Over the years, the number had increased to almost 150. There were some photos as well – like a photo of him and Trish that had been taken directly after their first show four years ago. Both of them were grinning widely into the camera, Dante's arm pulling her closer by her waist. Time had passed so quickly. It almost felt like yesterday when they had been on stage the first time …

_Each of them had been nervous, only having played at home up to now and never in front of an audience bigger than ten people._

"_You're first", one of the staff members had said, "Try to lift the mood for the headliners, okay?"_

_They only had about forty minutes for their show. Not much time at all but they had to make the best of it._

_As soon as Dante stepped on stage, his nervousness was gone. He quickly got addicted to the feeling he got whenever he performed. People looking at him, people giving him their attention – they were actually _listening_ to him and he was free to shout everything he wanted, was free to express himself how he wanted. How could he not get addicted to it?_

_Dante thought he was high. God, this was what he wanted, this was the thing that gave his life sense._

_The show passed way too quickly. Dante wasn't satisfied yet, he wanted more of that feeling, more of that glorious high, knowing he was already addicted to it._

_They celebrated the whole night through, knowing that they were on their way to become a successful band, happy that their hard work had finally paid off. This was just the start._

Dante was smiling again when he switched off the light of the lamp on his nightstand before closing his eyes. Reminding himself of why he should never give up really did lift his mood and now, he couldn't wait to finally go to Redvale and show everyone what _Devil May Cry_ had to offer.

* * *

Loud music blasted through the stereo as the group of teenagers drove to the Hellpit festival. Jake was driving, his girlfriend Jenna sitting in the passenger seat. Nero and Kyrie sat next to each other in the back of the car. She was staring out of the window, noticing how rural the area they drove through was.

"Jake, where the fuck are we?", she asked with a laugh.

Jake wanted to reply when he noticed that the small screen of the GPS changed. They were now driving through a white area, the green arrow that represented the car aimlessly wandering around.

"Umm … that's a good question. I'd say at the end of the world."

Jenna shook her head at that and Kyrie giggled a little. "I hope it still leads us to the Redvale, otherwise I'll be pissed."

Nero meanwhile had his eyes closed, his head bobbing to the rhythm of the drums of the song. It was something by _Six Rounds For A Blue Rose, _the headliners of the whole festival and he couldn't wait to see them live.

Surprisingly, they arrived quite quickly on the festival site, getting out of the car to pitch their tents. Well, the boys _tried_ pitching them. Nero and Jake had trouble with the two men tents, not really making any progress.

"Boys", Kyrie huffed lightly annoyed, snatching one of the poles from Jake's hand and the hammer from Nero's. "Better do something useful and get the grill going, I'm starving."

The girls laughed at the incredulous look on the boys' faces as Kyrie easily set up the tents, Jenna helping her holding poles whenever it was necessary.

Nero watched Kyrie work, noticing that she was in an exceptionally good mood – singing songs while hammering the tent pegs into the ground.

"_We're painting the roses red,  
__We dare not stop  
__Or waste a drop  
__So let the paint be spread –_" Her full mezzo soprano made a trill on the last syllable.

"Is that a song from Alice in Wonderland?", Jenna asked with a small laugh and Kyrie laughed as well.

"I like Disney songs, okay?" Kyrie weighed the hammer in her hand as she talked. "Like, those are the best parts of the movies, right? Who doesn't love them?"

"I'm not sure, Kyrie –"

"I will convince you!", Kyrie said dramatically, swinging her hammer. "One way or another!"

Jenna laughed but took a step back nonetheless. The boys watched the girls fool around, both smiling lightly at the display. They sat down on their camp stools, watching the steaks and vegetables on the grill, turning them over every few minutes. Jake gave Nero a can of beer out of nowhere.

"Where did you get that from?", Nero asked but opened it nonetheless.

"Brought a sixpack with me", he replied with a shrug. "Everyone does that so …"

"What if they catch us?"

"Nero, try to relax and be a little less paranoid."

Nero rolled his eyes, taking a sip from the beer and observing the festival site. There wasn't much to look at besides a cornfield in the distance. Usually, this area was used as a small airport but during a week in April it was host of _Lucifer's Hellpit_.

The sun was already setting – after all, they spent the whole day driving here. They came to the festival one day earlier, mainly to get a closer place to the stages and not having to walk a mile to their tents.

Jenna set up some torches and lit them before placing a camping lamp onto their small folding table while Nero dealt with their food. Jake and Kyrie watched them, both drinking beer.

During their dinner, they talked about the bands that would play and made a plan of who they wanted to see before going to sleep, feeling tired and full.

Nero and Kyrie shared a tent, something that felt totally normal to them. They've always had sleepovers when they were younger so sleeping next to each other was nothing strange to them.

They said goodnight to each other but Nero couldn't sleep, laying awake for many hours. It should have been easy, shouldn't it? Telling Kyrie what he felt shouldn't feel wrong but by now Nero thought that feeling was gone. Had he waited too long? What was wrong with him?

Nero buried his face in the pillow. God, this was so frustrating. Questioning himself over and over and over again didn't get him anywhere and Jake had been right when he told him to get a move on. But for Nero, all that advice came too late. He didn't even see Kyrie in that way anymore … or did he?

_I'm doing it again_, Nero thought angrily, turning around and getting as comfortable as possible. He was overthinking. The purpose of this festival was to enjoy it and it was about time he just did that.

* * *

"Goddamn, it's hot here." Jake fanned himself with his hand but it didn't help much. They were currently seated on the lawn of the festival area, still close enough to see the stages from further away. The next band any of them wanted to see would only play in about three hours.

"Stop complaining", Jenna said before sitting up and lifting her sunglasses. "What's Kyrie taking so long?"

Kyrie had gone to get some drinks for them. She had been gone for almost half an hour by now.

"Well, the queue _is_ long", Jake said, holding his head. The dark locks on his head were already slightly bleached by the sun.

"Nero, can you go and get her?", Jenna pleaded a moment later. "I bet she's flirting with some guy and forgot us."

"Yeah sure." Nero quickly got up before Jenna could make up more theories about Kyrie was doing, the thought alone making him – well, how did it make him feel? Nero frowned as he realized that he was completely indifferent to it.

But Kyrie was nowhere to be found … Nero was sure he had looked everywhere and circled the area around the stages and shops half a dozen times. Just where the hell was she?

On the other end of the festival site, Kyrie sat in a tent, three guys of who she only knew the names with her.

"Heh, you put something into my drink, didn't you?" She smiled nonetheless at the boys she just met who innocently looked back at her.

"But you like it, don't you?", one of them asked. Kyrie had difficulties remembering their names. Was it Ben …? Or Brandon? Whatever. He had seemed much more friendlier when they talked at the beverage stand. Kyrie should've known better.

"What _is_ that?", she asked with a giggle, falling back onto the grass and staring into the sky. "And why is the sky on fire?" She frowned, trying to shield her eyes with her hand.

"Acid, babe", Ben replied, "And that's the sun you're staring at."

"Aaaaaaacid, really?", Kyrie asked mildly surprised. "Didn't you promise me we'd smoke some weed together and go our merry ways, huh?" She sat up again, having difficulties to discern anything. God, her vision was swimming so badly. And everything was so bright and rich of color. Over-saturated and bizarre, almost surreal.

"Hell, where the fuck did you take me?" Now panic started to set it.

"I told you it was a bad idea", another guy of the group of three said.

"Hey, it's alright, babe. We're here." Ben took another sip from his spiked coke, grinning widely. "Rhys, you're just pissed because you're the babysitter this time."

Kyrie started laughing, interrupting their fight. "And now somebody explain to me how I ended up in Wonderland."

"Wonderland?", Rhys echoed with a huff.

"Yes!" Kyrie's eyes went wide as she picked a daisy close to her. "We have to paint them red, all of them."

"Why red?"

"The Queen likes them red!", Kyrie exclaimed, shocked that the boys didn't know about it.

"Bad idea", Rhys repeated, brushing his long red bangs out of his eyes. His hair had a strong flame red color, the tips ending in a flashy orange.

Kyrie gestured to him to take the flower and he reluctantly accepted the daisy from her. The boys watched her picking out more flowers while she explained the story of Alice in Wonderland to them. "See, the Queen of Hearts is cruel. She likes to be at the top and to be the best at everything. And if people don't obey her, she just screams 'Off with their heads!'."

The boys laughed at her dramatic and expressive art of narrating and Kyrie slowly but surely lost track of time. Wasn't she supposed to be somewhere right now?

Rhys threw his head back as he laughed and suddenly his arm was around her shoulders, pulling her in. Why were they so close together? Oh well, who the hell cared?

Kyrie hummed a happy tune before turning her head and looking at the boy next to her. Her hand brushed through his crazy-colored her but in the next second, she froze in shock, staring at him in horror.

He raised a brow. That glance was awfully familiar – oh no. Seemed like Kyrie's trip had suddenly turned into a nightmare –

Rhys flinched when she screamed suddenly and pushed him away from her. "She cut off his head!"

He didn't understand what she was talking about. Neither did the others, too busy with picking flowers themselves.

"You are bleeding allover!", Kyrie hysterically explained, her hands flailing around as she tried to show him where exactly he was "bleeding".

It then hit Rhys that she was talking about his hair. "Hey Kyrie, it's okay, it's nothing to worry abou–"

"I'm out of here, otherwise she'll get me too!" She scrambled to her feet as fast as she could, and then, she was already running.

"NO! WAIT!" Rhys got up but she had already made her way through the crowd, invisible in the mass of people.

"Fuck." Rhys bit his knuckle. That's certainly not what they had intended.

* * *

The band members of _Devil May Cry_ were meanwhile getting ready for their show.

"Are you excited?"

"Fuck yes." Dante grinned at Trish as they unloaded their bus, handing her her violin case and guitar gig bag. She accepted them with a smile, securing the guitar on her back before grabbing the rest of her instruments.

Dante snatched the waterphone from her hands. "C'mon, I'll carry that."

Trish raised a brow, letting Dante do whatever he wanted. The festival had already started and they would be playing in about an hour.

"Thought we'll ever get that far?", Dante asked as they unpacked their instruments.

"Not in the beginning", Trish confessed, "But now … So many things changed." She smiled widely. "It's freaking unbelievable."

Vergil stepped next to Dante, looking much more relaxed than usual. "They already built up the drum set", he said with a faint smile. "Much less work for me, I certainly could get used to that."

Dante checked their equipment once more, noticing that he forgot a cable. He quickly walked back to their bus to get it but didn't get far. Something hit and tackled him to the ground.

Dante groaned in pain, trying to get up but couldn't when something pressed him into the grass. Wait, chestnut-colored hair … The girl laying on top of him seemed so familiar.

"Nero! Thank god I found you!"

_Well shit. _Kyrie. Nero's almost-girlfriend. And she was thinking he was Nero? Dante gently pushed her back and sat up, examining her face. Eyes blurry and unfocused, hands twitching. She was anxious, looking around like a cornered animal.

Dante tried getting up but she pulled him back down to her, yelping in panic. Okay, so obviously hysterical as well. Just what the hell was wrong with her?

"What happened?" Might as well trying to ask her directly.

"Met some guys", was her answer. "They … they put something in my drink. And then, she cut his head off."

"_What?" _Dante lost it at the decapitation.

"She cut his head off, didn't you listen?!"

Okay, Dante couldn't leave her like that. For once because she was holding onto him for dear life and refused to let go and also because hell knows what could happen to her in that condition.

_Hmm, she must think I'm Nero because of the hair_, Dante thought and rolled his eyes.

"Come on, get up", he instructed her, helping her stand up.

"Where are we going?", she asked, pressing herself as close to him as she could.

_Hopefully to the real Nero. _"Umm –"

That "information" seemed to suffice for her. Kyrie hummed happily as she clung to Dante who navigated them through the crowd, searching for Nero. He couldn't be hard to find, right? After all, that platinum hair could be seen from far away.

By now, Nero had started to ask around for Kyrie – without success. _This is so typical_, he thought angrily, _If it turns out that she hooked up with someone –_

He didn't finish the thought, slumping down onto one of the bar stools at a beverage stand. "You look like you could use a drink."

A female voice, soft but yet strangely husky. Nero's gaze snapped to the bartender. She looked back at him, smirking knowingly. "Had a rough day?"

He couldn't stop staring, wondering what exactly drew him in to her. She seemed to be a little older than him and was dressed in leather from top to toe – shorts with a studded belt, a black lace top with a leather vest on top of it. Her long legs were partly hidden by the heavy combat boots she wore and spiked leather armbands were placed on her wrists. Also, she wore a simple black onyx ring on her ring finger and a necklace adorned her neck – a shimmery gray stone with a small rune engraving. She also wore one long earring in her left ear, the faceted stone shimmering in the orange light of dusk.

"You could say so", Nero finally answered.

Her lips curled into a smile, her eyes lighting up. Nero noticed what a strange color they had – bright green, almost a little translucent, but still incredibly intense. Her long hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned down to get something from under the bar. It was dyed black with a blueish shimmer. Like the feathers of a raven.

Then, she set a shot glass in front of Nero, filled with a clear liquid. "I won't tell if you won't." She blinked, making Nero grin.

"Thanks." He knocked the vodka shot down, lightly grimacing at the bitterness of the alcohol.

"Hey, have you seen a girl, about this –" Nero held his hand at his shoulder height –"tall, reddish-brown hair, brown eyes? Wears jeans shorts and a white t-shirt."

"Can't say I've heard that pick-up line before", the bartender said with a sigh and Nero's eyes widened. What?

"Oh, I … I didn't mean to … well, the thing is she's my friend and she's kinda missing."

"I think I've seen her here, maybe about an hour ago." She cleaned off the bar with a towel, grabbing some plastic cups next to her to throw them into the trash can. "She went somewhere with three guys; one of them had blood red hair, it looked as if his head was on fire… What's your name, by the way?"

"Nero." The longer he looked at that girl, the more Kyrie vanished from his mind. She was interesting. Different. There was just something about her that seemed wild and independent. The opposite of Kyrie who got herself into trouble again.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Nero", she said. "My name's Storm."

"Storm?", Nero queried with a raised brow.

"My parents were creative", she replied with a slight roll of her eyes. "My friends say it fits to my personality. So anyway, what are you doing here?"

"Still searching for my friend. And you?"

"Running away from my friend", she replied a little absentmindedly. "Not sure if I can call him a friend anymore."

"What happened?", Nero asked interestedly, leaning over the counter.

"A lot of things happened", she replied with a sad smile. "But hey, looks like we two complete each other. You're chasing someone and I'm running away." She looked into Nero's eyes in the next moment, leaf green meeting ocean blue. "Maybe I should stop running."

Oh, this certainly went into an unexpected direction. But Nero didn't really mind it. Storm was an interesting and pretty girl. At the same time though she seemed strangely untamable. If she wanted to run away, she certainly would do so. Just as stressful as Kyrie.

_Who am I to compare them to each other? _Nero mentally slapped himself. He compared each girl he met to Kyrie for some reason and slowly but surely it was getting ridiculous.

"I don't think I will stop chasing." It slipped out before he could stop it and he didn't mean it in the same way Storm meant it.

She looked only mildly disappointed. "You know, maybe you'll change your mind." She wrote something on a piece of paper, giving it to Nero. "Call me someday. Just to talk, nothing else."

Nero accepted the number a little reluctantly. "But why –"

"Why the hell not?", she asked back with a little laugh. "You never know what might come out of a loose contact, right?" Then, she looked at something behind him. "Hey, isn't that the girl you're searching for?"

Nero turned around, the sight making his blood boil in rage. Dante and Kyrie. So that asshole did it again.

He stomped over to them, almost punching Dante straight into the eye once more. He saw the attack coming though and caught Nero's wrist. "Hey, hey, wait! Let me explain!"

"What's there to explain?!", Nero shouted. "Let her go!"

Kyrie stumbled towards Nero. "Haha, two of you. Oh god, I'm seriously fucked." She was convinced she was seeing double.

Nero stared at her before looking back at Dante. "What the fuck did you do –"

"_I_ didn't do anything!", Dante yelled back, rubbing his forehead. "She ran into me, thinking I was you!"

"Why would she –"

"Let me finish", Dante interrupted, "She babbled something about acid so that's probably what's wrong with her."

Kyrie meanwhile hugged Nero around his waist, her head resting on his chest. Somehow, they always ended up in this position. Kyrie being disoriented, drunk or high and Nero … Her hands started to shake, making her grasp Nero's shirt tighter. Nero was always there, always managed to pull her out of her mess. But what did she give him in return?

"What am I supposed to do now?", Nero asked a little helpless, gently stroking Kyrie's back.

"We parked our tour bus close by. You can stay there for the duration of the show before taking her back to your tent", Dante suggested. "Follow me, I have to get something from there anyway."

"Okay … er, thanks?" Nero was caught a little off-guard by that. Dante had confused him while they were in jail together but this? That guy was a mystery.

They walked together in silence, with Nero dragging Kyrie with him. The silence was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Why are you doing this?", Nero finally asked when he couldn't bear it anymore.

"Doing what?" Dante's expression was unreadable, his face hidden by his long bangs.

"_This_", Nero repeated, "You could've left her, brushed her off. Instead, you came to me and now you also … Just what the hell?"

Dante shrugged but for Nero that answer wasn't enough.

"Are you serious? First we get into a fight and end up in jail where you pay my bail. Now this. I already owe you, what else do you want?"

"I don't want anything", Dante finally replied. "See, the thing is – I kinda got hit by karma pretty bad. Somehow …" He sighed. "I don't even know myself. All I know for sure is that I have to stop being an asshole and –"

Dante stopped himself before he could say 'it's you who made me realize that'. He already poured his heart out to Nero once, no need to do that again.

Nero wasn't sure what to think of that. He shook his head. "God Dante, you really are one weird guy."

Dante smiled a little. "But hey, _you_ asked if we would meet again, remember?"

Now it was Nero's turn to smile. "Guess I did."

By now, they had arrived at the band's bus. Dante opened the door for Nero who quickly persuaded Kyrie to take a nap but she didn't let go of him.

"Stay with me", she pleaded and so he did.

Nero gently cupped her cheek, looking at her as she laid on the small bed of the bus. "How come you always get into trouble?", he asked in a mix of sadness, anger and amusement.

Kyrie shrugged. "I wish I knew." She closed her eyes, a sigh escaping her mouth. "Nero, what if someday you won't be there to save me?" She did really live with this fear, knew that without Nero she'd be lost.

"I'll always be there", he said but as soon as the words left his mouth, he bit his tongue. Was that really the truth? Nero knew that Kyrie had to learn to deal with her problems herself and even though he wanted to support and help her, he knew that she must stop being dependent on him.

Kyrie laid her hand over Nero's that was still cupping her face, not finding words to express how grateful she was for him. Her eyelids felt heavy … It didn't take long for her to drift off.

Nero stepped outside then, wanting to thank Dante once more. He did appreciate his help even if he still wasn't sure why the elder bothered in the first place.

Dante waved him off. "It's no big deal." Then, he smirked. "Wanna return to the festival? We're playing soon and we have some new songs." He wriggled his brows. "You two are also welcome to join the after show party … well, if Kyrie wakes up in time."

"I think I'd rather stay here and watch out for her", Nero said with a trace of disappointment in his voice. No matter how much he loved Kyrie, it annoyed him that he always put her above everything. He was missing opportunities in his life. Maybe he should stop chasing after all …

"But I'm all in for the after show party."

Dante smirked even wider. "Well, if you change your mind about the show you know where to find us."

He walked off then, giving Nero a two-fingered salute. Nero stared at Dante's back, the tails of his coat fluttering in the wind. So many strange things happen whenever Dante is around. He felt the same strange pull he felt towards Storm but this time, it was more intense. Maybe it was because Dante was a rock star. Dante was free to do whatever he wanted.

And somehow, Nero found himself envying him.

* * *

"Where the hell were you?" Vergil was seething in rage.

Dante simply plugged in his guitar with the cable he fetched. "I kinda got attacked by a drug addict", he replied, "When –"

"Now, go", a stage worker replied, ushering them outside.

The sun had already set, the sky a pure velvety blue. Perfect atmosphere for their show.

They made a circle, putting their heads together in the middle. "We're gonna wreck this stage", Dante said confidently.

"Yes, we will", Lady confirmed, her face already red from excitement.

They loosened their hold on each other, now putting their hands into the middle before throwing them into the air with a sound of victory.

Applause hit them when they entered the stage. The area around it was full – mainly because the people wanted to save a good place for the headliner after their show but it didn't matter.

They didn't introduce themselves immediately, instead waiting for Trish to begin their first song.

The stage was plunged into darkness, only the ones in the first few rows could actually see the band. She took a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling slowly. Smoke flowed onto the stage, blue-ish light appearing behind it, making it look like small waves.

Trish held the waterphone tightly before brushing against a few rods with her bow. A ghostly sound could be heard, similar to a cry, making the audience's hairs stay on end. Then, she brushed against the whole side of the waterphone, the sounds swinging as she shook the instrument. It was a noise straight out of a horror movie, seeming like a ghost ship on open sea. It gradually got louder and louder, the audience holding their breath, impatiently waiting for the song to finally start. Trish reached the highest and loudest point, drawing out the single note.

It hung there for a moment, the crowd staring at the stage, curious what was to come next.

Then, the music abruptly broke out and Trish quickly grabbed her violin, following the heavy chords Dante was playing now. The music roared through the speakers, bass and drums also having joined.

Trish meanwhile stepped to the front of the stage, her fingers running over the neck of the violin, directing the song. Dante stepped forward as well, getting closer to the microphone. His voice broke through the instrumentation as he started singing the first lines:

"_Pessimist, complain about the wind shaking your sails  
__As it forces you to stray from your way."_

They repeated the motion Trish made with the violin, mimicking the sea. Vergil crashed onto the bass drum, giving the verses a solid base.

"_Optimist, expect it to change,  
__To point you the right direction."_

Then, they played in unison for a short while before abruptly breaking into a heavier and choppier rhythm, Dante switching to a high-pitched scream:

"_Martyr! Throw yourself into the waves,  
__Pray that your sacrifice will calm Lady Fortuna!"_

The music made a turn downwards, climbing down a short scale before returning to rumbling. Lady carried on with the melody now:

"_Storm upon the raging sea,  
__Try to find your path back home,  
__Through the waves, through the tides,  
__Martyr, you of all people should know how to fight."_

Dante was singing again then, the melody getting a little lighter and slower. The chorus resounded through the audience, rich and loud:

"_But home still seems so far away  
__And Martyr, you will never realize that it's not a place  
__But a concept, a state of mind,  
__Something that can't be grasped or measured  
__And all that it takes to reach it  
__Is adjusting your ship's sails."_

Quick and heavy chords followed that, joined by sharp bullet drums. The violin easily tore through it, playing long and mellow notes. Dante played short and choppy chords in contrast, Vergil accompanying him with sharp clatters on the drums.

The music swayed over to Nero who was sitting in front of the band bus. He sighed, wishing he could be over there and that Kyrie didn't pass out and – god, why did nothing ever work in his life?

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out. A text from Jake.

"_Whrer the fcuk are u? THEY ARE AMAZINGGG_"

Nero's eye twitched. He was tempted to just run to the stages and for once – just for one single time – do something for himself. His gaze wandered over to the bus. He couldn't leave Kyrie alone in her condition …

He weighed his phone in his hand before making a sudden decision, dialing the number Storm had given to him earlier that day.

She answered almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Hey, Nero here."

"Wow, I didn't expect you to call already", she said with a chuckle. "So I did make an impression on you, didn't I?"

Nero laughed. "You could say that."

"Why aren't you at the show? _Devil May Cry_ are surprisingly good."

He heard the music blast from wherever she was now though it sounded distant. Maybe she still was at the bar? "You don't seem to be close it either."

"Have to clean the bar." A clanking could be heard. "So, are you going to answer my question?"

"Well, I have to watch over my friend." Nero cast another look to the tour bus again. "She's taken something and I don't want to leave her alone."

"Aww, how sweet." Storm laughed. "Are you always her babysitter?"

Nero's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't call myself her babysitter."

She instantly backpedaled. "Hey, I didn't mean to offend you. It's good that you're taking care of her. And well … if you have time later on we could –" A loud clatter could be heard in the next second, followed by a sharp intake of breath – "Oh fuck!"

"Storm?" Nero frowned, suddenly feeling a little anxious. "What happened?"

"Ra– umm, _someone_ just showed up, I'll call you … later."

"But what –"

"The reason I ran away in the first place."

"Do you need help?", Nero asked her, hearing her laugh in response.

"No, I can take care of myself just fine. But thank you. I promise I'll call you back." Then, she hung up.

Nero stared at the screen of his phone. What the hell had that been about?

"Girls...", he growled under his breath, placing his phone back into his pocket. Nero rubbed his eyes, slumping down onto a nearby camping stool. This certainly didn't work out as planned. Nothing in his life ever worked out as planned and now, he didn't even have a plan for it.

Devil May Cry meanwhile continued their show, Dante giving his all as he sang the second verse:

"_Pessimist, you'll keep wandering until the end of time,  
__Never finding what you're looking for.  
__Optimist, you'll be content with the little you have,  
__Never trying to break your routine."_

He threw his head back to scream out the next words:

"_But Martyr! You think you are damned,  
__Cursed to put everyone before yourself!"_

They sang the chorus once more before Trish jumped to the front again, fiddling away a mind-numbing solo. She gave the band a short melody which they replayed with their instruments, the sounds washing the audience in small waves before Trish played fast chords with her violin, accompanied by Dante on a deeper range. They gradually sped up until they reached a breaking point, drawing it out to the highest note before Dante started singing again.

"_Martyr! One day you'll sign your own death contract  
__One day, you'll be drowning in the ocean of your hate.  
__You learned to suffer and take pain for everyone else,  
__Developing a damn savior complex."_

His voice dropped to a rough grunt in the next second, the music following downwards and getting slightly slower.

"_Whose job is it to drag you back to the surface,  
__To make you breathe again?  
__Lady Fortuna collapsed together with her wheel of time,  
__The Earth shook as Atlas shrugged  
__Before throwing it off his shoulders,  
__So Martyr, it's your turn to take the burden yet again!"_

He screamed out the last words before Lady joined him once more for the last repetition of the chorus:

"_Storm upon the raging sea,  
__Try to find your path back home,  
__Through the waves, through the tides,  
__Martyr, you of all people should know how to fight."_

Lady sang the last verses of the chorus:

"_But home still seems so far away  
__And Martyr, you will never realize that it's not a place  
__But a concept, a state of mind,  
__Something that can't be grasped or measured  
__And all that it takes to reach it  
__Is adjusting your ship's sails."_

The song ended with a note on the violin, a static noise hanging in the air for a second before the audience broke into applause. Most of them were taken by surprise, not expecting the support band of _Six Rounds For A Blue Rose_ to be this good.

Dante swiped the sweat off his brow. "Hello everybody!"

The audience answered with a roar that made his ears ring. He laughed into the microphone, adjusting one of the tuning pegs of his guitar before continuing. "We are _Devil May Cry_ and came all the way from Capulet City just for you!" Another round of applause. "So tell me – how are you?"

Another roar was his answer but it wasn't enough for Dante. "HOW ARE YOU?", he growled into the microphone, getting an even louder reply this time.

He grinned widely. "Now that's better. Come on now, guys, let's make some noise! Our next song is called 'Sinners and Saints'!"

This time, Lady started singing the first lines. The song started slowly, only her voice audible over the audience's whistles and yells.

"_The sun has hidden behind blue clouds,  
__Causing the moon to crash down."_

Lady's voice pitched with the next verse:

"_Stars cascade down from above,  
__Hells' fires licking at the edges of this world."_

Trish had meanwhile switched to her guitar, a sudden riff cutting through the atmosphere Lady had built up. Dante joined after some seconds, accompanied by Vergil and Lady. The sound was heavy and wild, getting faster until they reached a certain point.

Then, sudden silence set in. Dante was close to the microphone again, gripping it with both hands. In the background, Trish built up the rhythm on her own, the others staying silent for the first few verses.

Dante sang in his deepest pitch, his voice soft and yet slightly raspy, almost seductive.

"_Nowadays, the world is ruled by someone called 'Anonymous'  
__He made his reign by playing us against each other  
__Putting words into mouths, feeding lies,  
__Handing out the weapons for mass destruction."_

A high-pitched screech on the guitar could be heard, then the heavy and fast instrumentation set in once more. Dante started screaming now.

"_Chaos has never looked as beautiful as today,  
__So let's paint our world blood red,  
__And watch as it crumbles piece by piece!"_

He switched back to clean vocals for the chorus, his strong voice resounding from the huge speakers on either side of the stage.

"_We built our empire brick by brick,  
__But its foundation is desecrated!"_

He growled out the last word and Lady joined him for the next two lines:

"_Cannibalize what is left,  
__The lonely star above is our only witness."_

The next verse followed immediately, Dante once more singing loud and clear:

"_Since the beginning of time  
__We found ways to define morals,  
__Forming images and stories of Hell."_

He threw his head back, his voice pitching into a scream.

"_But assign a man to his sin!  
__Judge him by his weakest link or deed!  
__And ask yourself –  
__Would you also judge the ocean by the power of one single wave?"_

The melody made a turn, Trish's guitar pitching into a screech once more, emphasized by the harsh bass notes coming from Lady and Vergil. Sharp, almost cutting snares could be heard from the drums.

Dante continued singing:

"_One man's opinion is valued more another one's  
__But how can mankind put their beliefs into said man's fantasy?"_

Nero meanwhile was walking up and down in front of the tour bus. _To go or to not go, to go or to not go … _

"_Shaming and degrading has always been our way of living,  
__And it's never been as easy as today!  
__Still –"_

There was a stop in the music before it continued at an even heavier degree, Dante now growling loudly:

_"– how much value has a human's work  
__When he will forever remain a violator?"_

Nero still hadn't made his choice. Damn, he wasn't even supposed to wait here. And everything would've turned out different if it wasn't for Kyrie doing drugs … or if he had accompanied her earlier when she got their drinks. He didn't want to put the blame on anyone, even if it was hard for him to do so.

"_Chaos has never looked as beautiful as today,  
__So let's paint our world blood red,  
__And watch as it crumbles piece by piece!  
__We built our empire brick by brick,  
__But its foundation is desecrated!  
__Cannibalize what is left,  
__And watch as the lonely star above falls!"_

Still, the music sounded so inviting – it was the reason Nero came here after all. But he also was too afraid to leave Kyrie alone on her own. What if she woke up and went to search for him?

_It's unfair_, Nero thought in frustration, _She always does whatever she wants and it's always me who has to pay for it._

Dante was getting this surge again, the feeling as if he was high. Being on stage felt like being at home to him and for once his mind was completely clear. He looked into the audience, seeing the people jumping around and bang their heads. It was a complete chaos and one unity at the same time.

He screamed out the next verse's lines:

"_Sinner or Saint?  
__We're drawing a thin, already vanishing line,  
__Meant to separate every single being that walks the Earth.  
__It's time for you to choose a side!"_

Him and Trish played on the same range on their guitars, directing the song to its finale:

"_One foot into the grave right at birth!  
__The human legacy destroyed,  
__Our lives in pieces,  
__A grim outlook for the final years we spend on Planet Hell!"_

Trish ended the song with a heavy chord, the sound hanging in the air, a distant clinking coming from the hi-hats of the drums as Vergil let the sound fade out.

The audience broke into applause once more, the band members grinning widely in happiness. This was exactly what they had hoped for, this was exactly what they wanted to achieve. And now that they had their first taste of it, they certainly wouldn't stop.


End file.
